Harry Potter and the Darkest Path
by PhoenixEternal
Summary: Pain. Fear. Death. These are the things inflicted upon Harry by the Dark Lord and his followers. His only means of escape are two incomprehensible choices. But after Harry has been forced to do the unthinkable, he questions if he made the right decision.
1. Debarkation June 30

**PATH OF DARKNESS**

**AU:** I'm BACK!

Hopefully all of you reading this now have read chapter 5 of my last story. It would explain things a bit better. If you haven't read Death Comes Unto All, all whopping 4 chapters of it, PLEASE DON'T! It will only corrupt your thoughts of this one.

The first section of this is an excerpt from the final pages of Half Blood Prince. I take no credit for Miss Rowling's work, nor do I consider her amazingly created characters to be mine.

sigh

Here we go again.

Commence insanity in:

3...

2...

1...

**CHAPTER I: Final Departure**

"_I can't bear the idea that we might never come back," Hermione said softly. "How can Hogwarts close?"_

"_Maybe it won't," said Ron. "We're not in anymore danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwart's is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon, Harry?"_

"_I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," said Harry._

_Ron gaped at him, but Hermione said sadly, "I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?"_

"_I'm going back to the Dursleys' once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to," said Harry. "But it'll be for a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good."_

"_But where will you go if you don't come back to school?"_

" _I thought I might go back to Godric's Hollow," Harry muttered. He had had the idea in his head ever since the night of Dumbledore's death. "For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit my parents' graves, I'd like that."_

"_And then what?" said Ron._

"_Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?" said Harry, his eyes upon Dumbledore's white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. "That's what he wanted me to do, that's why he told me about them. If Dumbledore was right–and I'm sure he was–there are still four of them out there. I've got to find them and destroy them, and then I've got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in him. And if I meet Severus Snape along the way," he added, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for him."_

_There was a long silence. The crowd had almost dispersed now, the stragglers giving the monumental figure of Grawp a wide berth as he cuddled Hagrid, whose howls of grief were still echoing across the water._

"_We'll be there, Harry." said Ron._

"_What?"_

"_At your aunt and uncle's house," said Ron. "And then we'll go with you wherever you're going."_

"_No--" said Harry quickly; he had not counted on this, he had meant them to understand that he was undertaking this most dangerous journey alone._

"_You said to us once before," said Hermione quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"_

"_We're with you whatever happens," said Ron. "But mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."_

"_Why?"_

"_Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"_

_Harry looked at him, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could even exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful._

"_Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," he said finally._

_His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione._

The Hogwarts Express pulled into a frantically bustling Platform 9 3/4. Parents desperately searched for their child's face amongst the many quickly filing off the train. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, however, had not yet left their compartment. They knew that on the platform they wouldn't get a decent chance to talk and say goodbyes. Ron, of course, was going with Harry back to the Dursley's (who did not quite know this yet) and Hermione would be joining them after a week with her parents. But Ginny would not be coming with them, and it was she that held them back in the compartment.

"Ginny. Its only for a month..." Ron condoling said. "We'll be back for the wedding..."

"I'm not worried about that Ron." Ginny sounded exasperated. They had already discussed this on the ride here, and yet he still wouldn't listen to her. "I'm...I'm worried about Harry."

"Ginny, you know I'm fine at my Aunt and Uncle's. Voldemort can't touch me while I'm there." He repeated to her yet again, continuing the hour-long debate.

"I know that--but still--Harry, I can't help thinking about something happening. Things have changed, and if Voldemort discovers that it was you who stole his Horcrux then he's going to want to kill you even more. He's getting stronger...what if Dumbledore was wrong and you aren't safe in Privet Drive?"

"Dumbledore has never been wrong. As far as I know."

"Except about Snape..." She just had to remind him about that. Just hearing that name made Harry so overwhelmingly furious that he had to compose himself for a few seconds before speaking again.

"That...that's different. Snape was a traitorous, lying bas..."

"And Voldemort's not? Harry just consider the fact that you may _not_ be safe. We all thought Hogwarts was utterly impenetrable, but apparently its not."

"Ginny, please. I'll be fine. Ron and Hermione will be with me, and I think Lupin as well. I've always been ok there by myself, well, excluding Dudley's torments, of course. But I won't have to worry about him this year. He wouldn't dare do anything to provoke a full-grown wizard."

"Which you're not!"

"But Lupin is! And so are Ron and Hermione, and they're going to be there with me."

"Well, that's all fine, but I'm not worried about your cousin." She snapped. "You're not completely safe there. What about the Dementor attack before 5th year?"

"Well I think I handled that, didn't I? And that wasn't in my house, that was a couple streets away. If it makes you feel better, we'll stay boarded in my bedroom for a month." He retorted, himself now starting to get annoyed.

"That's not what I want, and you know it. All I'm saying is you aren't truly as safe as you think you are." She seemed to be trying to pass some unknown information through her eyes. They were fearful and imploring, and reminded him of Dobby. Apparently Hermione got the hint, as well, and spoke up before Harry could say anything in response.

"Ginny? Why are you bringing this up now? What's made you think like this?"

"Well...er," She averted her eyes and stared out the window at the milling crowds below. "I had a...a dream..."

"Ginny! You're worrying over a ruddy nightmare?" Ron sounded highly irritated. But Harry was instantly alert.

"What kind of dream, Ginny?" The urgency in his voice scared even himself, and Ginny turned back to face him, looking slightly pale.

"What?" She was startled by the urgency, and drew her words out slowly and carefully. "Um...I dunno...It was about _you_...And you were...well, you..."

"Dying?" Harry finished for her, praying that wasn't what she was going to say.

"Well...er.._yes..._" She looked fearful. "How did you...?"

"Because I had the same dream." They stared at each other in stunned silence for a moment, Ron and Hermione exchanging furtive glances.

"But that doesn't...doesn't necessarily mean that it was the _same_ dream, does it? Or that its...its true?"

"No...No, of course not. It couldn't." But Harry had had his fair share of prophetic dreams, and this one had seemed eerily like the others. And then to hear Ginny had had the same one? It was enough to make him a little more than anxious, especially since it concerned himself in tormenting pain.But he could not allow her to worry about it. Perhaps it _was_ just a coincidence. A dream built on nerves?

"Ginny. I promise that even if it was true, I wouldn't let it happen. And neither would Ron or Hermione, both of whom will be with me for the next month. I'll be fine."

"He's right, Ginny.Nothing is going to happen to him." Hermione stepped in, although now she, herself, did not sound too convinced.

"But Harry...if we both had the same dream...that has to mean _something..._"

"No. It doesn't. All it means is that we're both worried about the same thing. Ginny, just forget it. I'm going to be alright. Now, come on. We better get going; the train's empty now, spare us." Harry finished shoving his things inside his bag, and everyone else followed suit in silence. Everyone was still feeling slightly uneasy about the entire situation, but no one dared bring it up again. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but they all doubted it. One thing was for sure: one way or another, Ron was going to find out what this was all about tonight.

As they threw their stuff together, Ginny was looking out the window yet again. "Oh, hell! Its Mum! She's looking frantic, and dad right behind her! We have to go!" Ron was half way out the door, not wanting his mum to make a scene, Hermione not far behind, just making a last check for any forgotten books or quills. Ginny stood up, hastily grabbing her bag. As soon as she lifted it, it split down the seam. Her things spilled out on the floor, an ink well smashing on top of it all.

"Damn! You guys go ahead and tell mum I'll be right there after I get this mess cleaned up. Let her worry too long and she'd probably explode..."

"Here, Gin. Let me help with that." Harry bent down to assist. "You go ahead, Hermione; this'll only take a minute."

"Alright..." She shrugged, and went to follow Ron. "But don't take too long, I don't know how long this train stays here."

As soon as she was out of sight, Ginny turned to Harry.

"What did you do that for?"

"What?" Harry smiled smugly.

"You know perfectly well what, you prat! My bag, why did you do that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said, casually sliding his wand into his back pocket. He suddenly remembered what Mad-Eye had said about such a thing, and couldn't help but smile, a rare thing in these dark times. Ginny rolled her eyes and groaned, and took out her own wand and began cleaning the ink with a simple spell, while shoving everything else into her magically repaired pack. She slammed her things around, but Harry didn't think she seemed to be angry with him.

"I just wanted some time to talk." Harry reasoned.

"I know that." She had stopped picking up her things now, and just sat in the middle of the floor. She sniffed quietly, then slammed down the book she had in her hand, and turned to face him. "How can you just ignore how much danger you could truly be in?"

"What...?" He began, taken aback.

"No, Harry. Don't try and shift this aside again. I know my dream wasn't normal, and I don't think yours was either. You know its just like the others you've had. Why didn't you tell someone?"

"Because I wasn't sure...and I didn't want everyone else to worry..."

"That's not the reason and you damn well know it!" She accurately accused, voice growing louder. "You didn't want to admit that this time it was you that was in danger! You didn't want to accept that it could really be your future that you saw." Her voice wavered, and she shut her eyes and turned away, jamming the last of her belongings inside her bag.

"If anything ever happened to you Harry..." She whispered, not seeming to be in the least bit enraged.

Harry sighed audibly. "I told you, Ginny: We can't do this. I can't be with you, and this is why. You're worrying over something that hasn't even happened yet, and might not even be true."

"I know what you said...and, yes. I am worried about you. But I'm also worried about everyone else as well. Mum, Dad, Ron, Hermione; _everyone._ It doesn't matter if I'm with you or not, I'm still going to be worried. You're not saving me by doing this, you're just making it worse." She turned back to face him, and Harry saw a single tear on her cheek. "I want to be with you. I can't lose you."

She couldn't continue, and Harry didn't know what to say. Instead, he knelt beside her and put his arms around her, hugging her comfortingly and regretfully. One part of his heart was so overwhelmingly joyful that she thought like this, that she wanted to be with him, and that she would put herself in such a precarious position to do so. But another part, a more larger, fiercer part, was screaming at him that it couldn't be, that it _shouldn't be_. They could never be together because one of them would get hurt. Voldemort would see to that, and Harry knew it...

Ginny had her arms around his neck, quietly sobbing. He spoke into her ear.

"Its gonna be alright, Gin. Nothing is going to happen to me. I can't lose you either...And that's why..." He told himself it had to be done. "That's why I can't be with you. Look what's already happening! Things can't be like this."

She pulled back from him. "Harry!...I told you I don't care! I'd rather worry about you then know I could never be with you when you _are_ ok. I can't live without you, Harry. I...I love you..." For the first time her hazel eyes fully met his own green ones, and this time it was he that had to turn away.

"Ginny...I...I can't." Harry stammered, fighting the lump rising in his throat. "I just can't put you into this position. Voldemort uses people's loved ones against them. I won't let him use you. He already has once before, and that was when you were only my best mate's sister. He'll do it again; especially if he knows how much you mean to me now. I can't give him that advantage. Not again. If anything ever happened to you it would be my fault. I could never live with that."

"Harry! _Please! _I told you! I told you, I don't care about that! Wh..."

"But I do!" He shouted, getting annoyed by the persistent-ness she was so known for. Ginny drew back, eyes wide, her sentence cut short. Harry tried to calm down before he spoke again. "I don't want to have to live worrying that you could be being used as my bait. Because if something ever did happen, you know I would have to try and save you. And that's what Voldemort knows, as well. He did it with Sirius, too, and look how that turned out. I _will not_ let him do it again!"

Ginny did not speak, did not even look at him, and Harry knew that she had realized he would not give in. The fact that he was forcing away the only person in the world that he truly loved, and that loved him back, was destroying him inside, decimating his dreams of this girl that sat before him, crying. Ginny knew that, he knew. She knew he did not want to do this, but that he had to. But she would never truly understand just how much it was hurting him. She was the first person that he had ever deeply cared about like this, and just like everything else in his life, Voldemort was taking that away from him too.

Harry lingered on this thought to long. About how Voldemort had taken away everything from him. His parents, a happy childhood, true family, a chance at a normal life. Without Voldemort, he would have been just Harry. _Just Harry; _ a normal boy who could live and love and be happy without the weight of the world on his shoulders. No prophecies or scars or dreams, no forcing away the people he loved. That would have been life without him being 'the Chosen One', or 'The-Boy-Who-Lived,'. Without being famous Harry Potter, but just being Harry. He could never have these things, and it was at the fault of the Dark Lord. So much had been taken. Sirius and Dumbledore, now even Hogwarts itself, as he has to hunt down the Horcruxes. And now Ginny as well. One day, Voldemort would pay. These are the things that Harry would remember when it finally came time to kill him.

He looked back at Ginny, who had her head down, but her face looked free of tears.

"Ginny...I'm sorry..." He began.

"No...Harry. You're right...its too dangerous. For both of us." She looked back up at him. "I can't let Voldemort take you because of me. You're the only one who can stop him.--I can't compromise that." A tear slid down her cheek. "But...Harry. After this is over. After we win...?"

_After we win._ Was it truly possibly for him, a teenage boy, the _only_ hope for the Order of the Phoenix...Was it possibly for him to defeat the greatest and most powerful wizard of all time? And even if by some chance this miracle did occur and Voldemort was vanquished, the Death Eaters destroyed, would Harry be there? Would he survive it, or would the struggle of the battle kill him? Would he live to love Ginny? And what would happen if she died?...Could they really both make it to the end?

"Of course, Gin. Once its all over. After Voldemort's gone." He whispered to a spot on the floor, adding this as well to his list of execration.

It was an awkward moment. Neither said anything; both stared at the floor, kneeling before each other. Both were being tormented unbearably inside. And yet both knew it was what had to be.

Finally, Ginny spoke, her voice barely over a strained whisper. "Harry. I can't let that dream come true. No matter what."

"I won't let it happen, Gin." Harry said solemnly.

"Promise me, Harry. I won't lose you. I can't. Promise: you'll be alright?"

Harry turned back to her and lifted her chin in his hand, so he could stare in her eyes. "I swear to you: _I am not going to die._"

Unaware of what was happening, within the next moment their lips were entwined. Maybe Ginny had kissed him, but maybe he had kissed her: Harry had no idea. All that mattered was that, for that one moment, everything in the world seemed to be right. Right there between him and this girl that he loved, their was no war, no death or suffering, no prophetic dreams to worry about. There was only them in the world...

Them...and Remus Lupin who was standing in the doorway.

"Hmm-hmm." He cleared his throat to alert them to his presence. He watched with a bemused smile as they both frantically broke apart and staggering to their feet. Both were highly embarrassed and averted their eyes from each other and the chuckling Lupin, their faces the color of the Gryffindor scarf that poked out of the bag on the floor.

"Erm, Lupin...We were just...er, getting ready to, uh, go, and um..." Harry stammered, and he felt his face grow hotter.

"Oh, Harry, relax. I shared a dorm with your father and Sirius for 7 years. I've walked in on my fair share of events."

"Yes, well, er...what are you doing here?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Well Molly was starting to get a bit frantic..."

"Mum!" Ginny exclaimed in sudden recollection and went to look out the window.

"Its alright, she was just getting a little worried. She sent me to see what was keeping you two. They've already gone through the barrier. I think they're going to arrange things with your Aunt and Uncle, Harry."

"Smart of them to take a head start." Harry said, starting to regain his composure.

"That could right well take a while."

"Yes, that's what they figured."

Ginny turned around and grabbed her pack. "We should get going then."

"After you..." Lupin said, mock-bowing them from the compartment.

Harry and Ginny shared half an embarrassed smile, laughing softly to themselves as they walked out the compartment door. Harry turned to Lupin, who was at his side as they stepped off the train for one last, final time.

"Er, Lupin. Could you, uh, not mention this to Ron?"

Remus smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

**AU**:

Finally, after 2 long years, an update in the continuation of the story. Ok, sorry, not much new information to go on, and I know the entire thing was overly boring, but stay with it. I promise it picks up in later chapters. The rest won't be this corny either, I promise. I just needed to get that out of the way. But if you want to find out what happens later, you HAVE to review. Flames are just as acceptable, I know I deserve them. Chapter 2 will not be posted until I have at least 5 reviews/flames that are more than 10 words each. And don't think I'm kidding. I really want to know what you all honestly think. (Ellen, if you're reading this, you don't count. I already know what you think. sticks out tongue)

I really want to get chapter 2 up soon, so the faster you review, the faster it will be up. And that means the closer you will be to finding out what has happened to Harry after waiting in suspense for so long with that last cliff-hanger. Got you all back to read this one though, didn't it? Anyway, hoped you somehow managed to make it to the end of this without being bored out of your mind. I promise I'm never writing another romance scene again. EVER. I just can't do it. So, review and the next chapter will be up shortly.

May the force be with you. Disapparates


	2. Premonition July 24

**AU:** WOW. I am completely blown away by the support you have all shown for this story. It took me three years to get 20-some reviews for my last story, and 4 hours to get the 5 reviews I asked for for this one. I'm assuming that to be a hint to update frequently? I promise I'll try. Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I know I said I would post as soon as I got those 5 reviews, but quite frankly, I didn't imagine they would come that fast. Thank you all so much!

Ps: Kat you were right about the 'its' and 'it's' mess-ups in the last chapter. I never noticed! Hopefully I'll spot them all this time and fix them. Sorry about that: I bet that got rather annoying. Thanks for the tip.

And of course the disclaimer: Blah Blah Blah: These are not my characters. Blah Blah: It all belongs to Jo. Blah Blah: I wish I was as talented as she was. Blah Blah: I don't own Harry Potter. sob

Here we go again...

**Path of Darkness**

**CHAPTER II: One Week**

"Oh, Hermione. Where are you?" Ron muttered under his breath frantically, begging for her return. He shifted his feet nervously, glancing around the darkened room, illuminated only by fog-covered moonlight and the hazy orange glow of the street lamps outside the frosted window.

The same window in fact that had once been barred to prevent the escape of a young wizard boy. A boy that was now not so young, but still in dire need of help. Ron had saved Harry by pulling him through that window into the flying Ford Anglia, but Ron did not know if he could save Harry now. How he wished times were as simple as they once were when you were able to solve your problems using Muggle hair pins and the family car.

"Hurry, Hermione..." He whispered his plea, but it would forever be unheard, for at that moment, a more desperate, louder one was cried out.

"NO! No more, _please_...!" The now-common, beseeching cry was heard again for the innumerous time in the past few moments. Ron stood over Harry's bed, gripping the unconscious form by the shoulders in an attempt to jostle him awake and rid him of whatever horror ensued his repetitive dreams.

Harry wrenched away, tossing restlessly. He was muttering deliriously now. "Never!...No...Please!" Harry cried out, pleading with his invisible tormentor, face drenched in his own sweat and tears. He was gripping madly at his scar, as if it alone was the cause of his pain. "Help! Please, make it stop!...Someone! Make it go away...I'll do anything, _please!_...Aah!"

He was full-out screaming now. Screaming a blood-curdling, bone-chilling scream that was the result of his utter agony, and Ron could only stand there watching, only able to imagine what evil could possibly be causing this.

He tried once more to wake him up, shaking Harry just enough to bring him back to reality. "Harry, please. You have to wake up, mate. Wake up!"

"No more! Please! NOOO!" Harry screamed, bolting up straight in his bed causing Ron to jump back. He was gasping for air, frantically searching the room with wide eyes that did not seem to be his own, for some reason not seeming to be the famous emerald green. But in a moment they were back to their normal hue, obscured by tears streaming from them. Harry fought with the effort to regain control of his breathing and surroundings, and relaxed back down, head in his hands.

Everything was eerily silent in the moment that immediately following that horrifying scream. Harry sat hunched over on his bed, breathing with heavy, shuddering breaths, cradling his right arm and clutching his scar, shaking uncontrollably.

"Harry? You...you ok?" Ron ventured uncertainly, afraid of what his friend might tell him.

"Ron!" Harry's head jerked up at him, seemingly startled by the voice. "Wha-what happened?"

Before Ron could even open his mouth to respond, two figures rushed into the room; one with shabby robes and another with a thick mane of brown flowing behind her.

The shabby-robed Lupin took immediate action and rushed forward to kneel on the floor in front of where Harry sat on the bed. Hermione flicked on the light switch, bathing the room in unnatural yellow glow, then moved to stand beside Ron, looking concerned and fearful.

"Harry, what happened? Are you alright?" His voice was urgent.

"Yeah, I'm-I'm ok." He began uncertainly, squinting against the light. "It was...another dream."

"Was it like the others?"

"Yes...but..." Harry pressed his hand to the searing scar on his forehead, hoping to ebb the pain. But when he touched his forehead he felt a thick, warm liquid flowing from where his scar should be. He brought his hand down immediately and gaped at it, shocked at what he saw.

His hand was covered in blood.

He wiped his other hand across his forehead and came down with more shimmering crimson.

"Lupin! My scar!" Harry gasped in fear.

"What about it, Harry?" His voice showed his alarm.

"It's bleeding! Look at it!" He tilted his head up so Lupin could see the coursing stream better. But before Lupin even commented, Harry knew something was wrong by the confused look on his face.

"Harry...I don't see anything."

"What do you mean? How can you not see it?" Harry asked incredulously.

"There's nothing there." He said slowly, causing Harry to wipe more off his face, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"What...? Ron! Hermione! You can see it, right? Look at my hands!" He held them out to them.

"No, Harry. I-I don't see anything." Hermione said cautiously, as though she was responding to an unstable explosive.

"Ron! Please?"

"No, mate...There's nothing."

"Harry?" Remus asked tentatively.

"Lupin. You believe me, don't you?"

"Harry...there's nothing there. Your scar's fine."

"But...but how can you not...? _My scar is bleeding!_"

Everyone stared at him as though concerned for his mental health. And if they really couldn't see the blood, then they had every right to.

"I don't understand..."

"Maybe it's just from your dream. Your probably just imagining it..."

"I'm not imagining it! It's real! I'm bleeding! Why don't you believe me?"

"I'm not saying I don't believe you: I'm saying I don't see any blood."

"But..." Harry began, astounded and horrified at this, and whatever it could mean. But before he could contemplate exactly what was occurring, he was taken over by an unbearable pain encasing his skull in thousands of pounds of pressure. He fell back onto his bed, screaming, grasping his 'bleeding' scar, gasping in agony, eyes clenched shut.

"NOO!" He pleaded again, but once again the pain did not end with his cries. Lupin jumped forward and grabbed his shoulders to subdue him, just as Ron had done not so long before. Ron and Hermione ran forward as well, standing beside Lupin, looking pale and unsure of what to do.

"Harry! Harry, what is it?"

He rolled from side to side, ripping free of Lupin's grasp.

"NO! Please! NOO!" He was begging, praying for it to stop. For in the dark void of Harry's mind, at this moment, he could see Voldemort, standing over his fetal body in a dark, cold room.

Voldemort was torturing him. And a thousand miles away, Harry could feel the pain.

"_You are mine, Harry Potter_." The voice of the Dark Lord hissed in what Harry could discern through his pleads as Parseltongue. "_One week._"

Harry screamed and eyes snapped open to view three faces leaning over him. He was gasping for air, profusely and visibly shaken by what had just taken place. He sat back up, and felt sick, head spinning, pounding; scar throbbing and searing. He slowly slid his legs over the side of his bed and sat there hunched over, palms pressing into his streaming eye sockets, still shaking. For the next few moments, the only sounds to be heard were that of Harry's sobs and Uncle Vernon's snores from the next room over, amazingly still sleeping soundly through all of this due to the powerful silencing charm. Just a remembrance of how they all wished life could again be that simple...

After another few minutes, Hermione spoke up.

"Harry...? Are you alright?" She spoke tentatively. She moved and sat on the bed next to him, hand on his shoulder.

He cringed at her touch, for it sent an unexplainable jolt of pain through him. But he made no effort to remove it. Her hand was so warm, and he was so cold. Everything was so cold. Everything hurt.

_One week._ Voldemort's voice was imprinted upon him, and the chilling sound still rang in his ears, filling Harry with the utmost amount of fear. He did not want to know what would happen in one week, especially after that dream.

For an eternal moment, Harry did not answer their questions. He contemplated everything that dream could have possible meant. And he did not want to accept any of it as truth. He sat their wiping his eyes and taking deep, sobering breaths.

"No. I'm not." Harry finally spoke. He sniffed, staring down at his nail-clenched arm.

"What _was_ that, Harry?" It was Lupin who spoke this time, referring to the recurring nightmare. He sounded more serious than he had before.

"I...I don't know." He said truthfully, this unknowingness scaring him and everyone else almost as much as what had actually happened. He still did not meet anyone's eyes.

"Harry. What just happened?" Remus pressed.

"Nothing. It was just my scar." Harry tried to blow it off, yet he knew they would never accept this as a reasonable excuse. But he could not bring himself to tell them what had really occurred. He could not tell them the events of his dream.

But mentioning his scar reminded him of what had happened before...whatever that just was. He looked at his hands: they were still shimmering scarlet. No sense reminding anyone else; they didn't believe him anyway.

Lupin looked at him warily, studying him, before he spoke. "Harry. I need to know what your dream was about. You said it was like the others, but they never caused you to do this. What was different?"

_What was different?_ Harry sat there, wiping invisible blood off his forehead, contemplating what he could say that would summerize what was different. Maybe it was that this was a prophetic dream of his own demise; that was certainly different than the other dreams he had been having. But how do you tell someone that you were just a witness to your own death?

_One week._ The thought echoed in his mind again, making him shake in remembrance, and his scar gave another twinge.

"I could feel the pain..." Harry heard himself whispering, but did not at first comprehend that it was he who said it.

The three standing before him all exchanged enigmatical glances. Harry closed his eyes, torn between straining to remember everything detail of the occurrence and wanting nothing more than to forget it had all ever happened.

"What...what do you mean by 'you could feel the pain'?" Lupin asked slowly, knowing he would not like the answer he would be given.

Harry did not think he wanted to tell them anymore than that. But he knew they would not stop asking questions until the entire truth was revealed.

He sighed, and began, knowing it would eventually have to be told. "Normally, I just see flashes of things--they aren't really ever clear, I can never understand what they mean. But this time--this time they were put together. It was as if it was actually happening..."

No one spoke. It was an extremely awkward silence.

"What was happening, Harry?"

His voice was barely above a whisper when he responded. "He was...torturing me. I could feel the pain..." With that line in the correct context, it became so much darker.

Everyone's face became deathly pallid.

"Why was he torturing you?" Lupin whispered. "Was there a reason?"

_One week._ He swallowed hard and pushed the thought away.

"Besides that it's his life goal to inflict as much pain upon me as possible?" The sarcasm cut through the high tension in the room. Lupin even managed a ghost of what had once been a smile.

"Er, well, yes. Was there any _other_ reason?"

Harry paused, finding the right words. He spoke slowly. "He...wanted me to...do something."

"Can you remember what it was?"

"No," Harry said, more firmly then he had meant, for it was a complete lie. He remembered all too clearly what the Dark Lord had been trying to persuade him to do, and in the end what he had accomplished. Right before Harry had been..._killed_. Harry couldn't bring himself to tell them what had truly happened in his dream, or why there were deep fingernail marks on his inner arm from where he himself had been gripping it in pain.

Some things are just best left unsaid. No matter how important they are.

_One week._

"Harry. You haven't had a dream where Voldemort was torturing you since the night before we left Hogwarts, have you?" Ron finally spoke.

"What?"

"You know? That dream you and Ginny both had."

"Wait, Harry. You and Ginny had the same dream? On the same night?" Remus asked.

"Er, yeah. She told me about it the next day. We thought it was a coincidence." _No, I wanted everyone to _think _it was a coincidence. _

"Haven't you learned enough about the Wizarding world to know that there are no such thing as coincidences?" Lupin lightly reprimanded.

"Well, I just thought..."

"No, Harry. You knew, didn't you? You knew it was just like the others you have had before. And if Ginny had the same one, that proves it. Why wouldn't you tell someone about that?" He didn't sound accusatory–just concerned. But the words had for some reason had a deeper affect on Harry and he was left speechless.

"Harry?" It was Hermione who spoke this time, realizing that Lupin's words had put him in an awkward position. "If you and Ginny had the same dream before, do you think she could have had this one as well?"

"Er, I dunno..." _Please, God, don't let her have had this one. Don't let her have seen what I saw..._

"We need to find out." Lupin said simply.

"But...but it's so early in the morning. If she didn't have it, we'd be waking the whole house up for nothing." Harry protested.

"But if she _did_ have it, then they are probably already awake. And even _if_ Ginny was granted the night of peaceful sleep, they need to know you are having more prophetic dreams."

"What?"

"I was told by the Order to keep them fully updated. And as members of the Order of the Phoenix, Arthur and Molly need to know what's going on here."

"Nothing's going on here! I had a nightmare! It was just a bad dream caused by stress. If you want to report to the Order that I'm a little stressed out from everything that's happened, that's no news to them."

"But that was not a normal dream!" Lupin raised his voice, something he rarely did. Harry knew that he had crossed that infamous invisible line. "I don't know what it is that you don't want people knowing about this dream, Harry, but_ they need to know_. And if you..."

Lupin's words were cut short by a loud crash downstairs. Everyone froze, alert to the most minute noise, straining to hear for the source. Another crash soon followed. There were now at least two people in the living room downstairs.

"Ginny! I told you not to come!" The muffled voice of Arthur Weasley was heard, referring to the second crashing sound.

_Ginny. _Ginny was _here_? Did she really have the same dream?

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even know about any of this. And I have to give this to Harry." Even from far away, her voice sounded unnatural, and possibly...panicked? And what could she possible have to give him?

They heard Mr. Weasley sigh. "Alright, alright. No sense arguing, now: you're here anyway. Let's go find them and hope they don't mind us waking them up at this ungodly hour."

_Yeah, right. I _wish_ we were still asleep. Then none of this would have ever happened._

"We're up here, Arthur! Don't worry, we're awake." Remus shouted to them. But his eyes never left Harry, as if to enforce what he had previously been saying. Harry could only pray that Ginny did not experience what he did.

Two steps of footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and down the hall, one much faster than the other. In a matter of moments, Ginny had rushed through the doorway and, ignoring everyone else, ran and attached herself to Harry, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. In her hands she clutched an aged paper scroll.

"Harry." She sobbed into his shoulder. "I was so-so worried..."

"Ginny. We're fine. What's wrong?" He strained to say through her constricting grip.

"She, er, had a bad dream." Mr. Weasley explained as he walked in the room.

The casualness of that term could have been no more out of place.

"Ginny. Was it like the one from the train?" Harry asked slowly and warily.

"Well..." She hesitated, and sat back on the bed beside him, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her purple night robe. She looked up at him for the first time since she entered the room, and gasped. "Harry! _Your scar is bleeding!_"

"What? You-you can see it?"

"Of course! How could I not? What happened?"

"I don't know. It was like that when I woke up." He then turned to Lupin "Can you see it now?"

"No, Harry. But now I'm starting to think that something is truly wrong."

"Remus, what are you talking about? What's going on here?" Mr. Weasley sounded lost.

"I think Harry and Ginny have been having the same dreams. And I also think that whatever they have been seeing in them is going to happen sometime soon."

"Sometime soon!" Ginny exclaimed, then turned to Harry. "You told me on the train it was just a coincidence. You said it wouldn't come true!"

"It won't. It's just a dream." He tried to assure her, but wasn't sure if it was _he_ that was the one that really needed to be assured.

"No, Harry. It was real and you know it! I was there. I--I watched you _die..._"

Harry's heart plummeted to somewhere around his navel.

"Die!" The word was echoed through the room, everyone speaking aloud their shock and horror.

"I think you failed to mention that, Harry." Lupin said coldly.

Harry lowered his head and stared at his hands, which were still covered in the thick, red liquid.

"So, Harry. You had the same dream?" Ginny asked softly.

Harry sighed, and rested his forehead in his hands. "Yeah, Gin." He admitted, but then remembered something else. "Ginny, what do you have in your hand?"

She gave a small gasp of remembrance. "Well, when I woke up, there was a huge black bird at the window sill. I have no idea who it was from, but this was tied to it." She handed him the old parchment. "It's addressed to you."

"To me? Then why would it be delivered to you?"

"I don't know. But, what I think is, whoever sent it wanted it to be _me _who gave it to you."

Harry stared down at the scroll in his hand, and noticed the wax seal holding it closed had already been broken, and glanced up at Ginny.

"I, er, wanted to know what it said. Sorry."

He gave a half smile at her curiosity as unraveled it, but when he saw the words shining on the page before him, his smile instantly vanished. On the parchment that he had dropped onto his lap, two words shone up at him written in the same color as his own bloody fingerprints that he had left there beside them. Two profoundly foreshadowing words that scared him more than anything else that could have been written upon that paper.

_One week._

**AU:** I can't really think of anything to say for this author's note, so I think I'll just leave it at this. Hope you enjoyed the chapter: the next one will explain more. This time though I am demanding a minimum of 7 new reviews/flames before I'll even consider posting again. You met my demands so well last time, I thought I'd up-the-ante. I'll try and get Chapter III up faster than I did Chapter II. Keep reading, don't give up yet. More surprises to come.

May the force be with you. Disapparates


	3. Expectation July 30 to 31

1**AU:** Hey! I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to update. I have had the worst case of writer's block for the past 3 months. There is nothing more frustrating in the world then not being able to put what you have in your mind into words on paper. I hope this chapter is worth the wait. Please don't kill me for the ending. And no peeking now. It'll be better if you just wait until you get there. Remember, curiosity killed the cat. Or in this case...Never mind, just read the story.

**Path of Darkness**

**CHAPTER III: EXPECTATION**

Nearly a week had passed since the night of the dream and the arrival of the letter, and yet they had received no further information. Lupin, who lately has been heading several things for the Order, presented all evidence to the rest of them. No one had any idea of what should be done, but they all agreed that Harry was in danger. So the house at Number 4, Privet Drive had been under close watch, non-stop, by members of the Order, all trying to assure Harry's safety.

Without being able to leave the house, by command of the Order of the Phoenix (who felt he was safest there), Harry had spent the last few days in his room with Ron, Hermione, and now Ginny, who had been allowed to stay since it was she who received the letter addressed to Harry. The four of them spent their time discussing what was to come; concerning the letter, the dream, and the search for the remaining Horcruxes.

They were sure that two of the Horcruxes had been permanently destroyed, and that the last two were Voldemort and his snake, but there were still three others unaccounted for. The real locket, in possession of the faceless R.A.B., could have been destroyed like the note said. But they had to be certain, so therefore it still had to be located. But the problem with that was they had no way of finding out who this 'R.A.B.' was.

Then there was also Hufflepuff's Cup, but even Dumbledore himself wasn't certain if it even was a Horcrux. And if it is, they had no leads on where that could be either. And after _that_...there was still one more to go, and the only hint was that it _might_ be something of Gryffindor's _or _Ravenclaw's, but still, that being only an assumption. Nothing else to say: they were lost, and had no one to go to who could help them with figuring it out. Because right now, the only person in the entire world who knew more about Horcruxes than Harry was Voldemort himself.

This is what was debated whenever they had a free second to spare, which lately, wasn't very often. The majority of their time was instead filled with Occlumency lessons for them all, seeing as Voldemort was now prone to using brains and dreams as weapons. Lupin, who had mastered both Legilimency and Occlumency over the past few months, taught them what he knew, seeing as the Order's two most skilled were gone.

In these lessons, Ron unexpectedly picked up rather quickly, and by the end of the week, could almost fully block out a Legilimens. Hermione had done fairly herself, but needed a lot more work and concentration.

But Ginny and Harry, however, the two that needed to learn Occlumency the most, were by far having the most amount of trouble. Ginny could partially block it out at the beginning, but failed at the end every time. And Harry...his mind was now so open, you almost didn't need to be a Legilimens to know what he was thinking. When he had had lessons with Snape, he could at least fight it. But now he couldn't even begin to resist. It seemed that Voldemort had opened his mind, permanently, and that could be a strong vantage point for the Dark Lord.

And this was a really bad thing, now more than ever. Right now, Voldemort had the huge advantage of being in control of what was to come. Since the Order had no idea what to expect when the 'one week' was up, they couldn't precisely block what was to come, but could only try to prevent whatever they thought was possible of occurring. Most expected a kidnapping of Harry, hence the numerous members on stake-out. But no one was sure of the _who-what-where-when-why-or-how._

Well, no, they did know the _who _and _why... Everyone_ knew the _who _and _why..._

But they had nothing else to go on. And so was the same in everything else they were trying to accomplish. The Horcruxes, Occlumency, finding any weakness at all in the Dark Lord's defenses: Voldemort always seemed to be two steps ahead of them. No matter where they turned, the Order of the Phoenix couldn't find anything that they could use to help them win this war. They had lost their leader, and without him, it seemed they had lost all sense of leadership. No one was able to step up and fully take his place. With Dumbledore gone, everything had lost all sense of propriety, nothing could be accomplished. All too often phrases such as '_If Albus was here...' _or '_Dumbledore would've known what to do...'_ were heard muttered in desperate situations.

Especially tonight. More than one person had wished that Dumbledore could have been there with them to keep Harry safe. Harry: now the only person that had any chance of standing up to Voldemort and being triumphantthe only person who could save the Wizarding world, a person who was, at this moment, in an extremely perilous situation. There was less than one hour left before their time would be up, and the one week passed. At midnight on the 31st of July, the first few seconds of Harry's 17th birthday, he would be entirely vulnerable to whatever the Dark Lord had in store. They had already lost Dumbledore: they _could not_ lose Harry, too.

But at this very moment, Harry was having another dream: one that would show him what to expect when that last hour was up...

Harry Potter sat on the edge of his bed, facing his friends and absentmindedly massaging his throbbing scar. None of them spoke, but waited anxiously for him to reveal the details of his latest dream.

"None of it made any sense," He began uncertainly. "At least in the last one I was able to understand what was going on. But in this one...I dunno. It was like flipping through a photo album in reverse."

Harryrubbed his eyes wearily. He knew he shouldn't have fallen asleep, but practicing Occlumency drained all energy from him. And a lot of good those practices did, resulting in yet another one of the dreams that they were meant to block out.

"Harry. What happened this time?" Lupin questioned."What did you see?"

"It started off with..." He paused, knowing what he was about to say would sound highly morbid. "...my body lying on some sort-of table. I was dead."

He ignored the gasps he knew this comment would grant and continued. "Then I was in the same room from my other dreams, with Voldemort. I think he was laughing. I was screaming."

"Was that it?"

_Of course it wasn't it, _thought Harry. He had decided to leave out a few parts. He didn't think they were ready to hear what else had happened. Or maybe it was just that he didn't want them to. Either way, he skipped to the end.

"No. After that, I was back here, and there was some bird at the window, trying to get in. Then it ended with me holding the letter Ginny brought last week."

After a moment of consideration from all, Hermione gave a small gasp of recognition, and everyone turned to face her. "I think I know what that means. It was a cause-and-effect reference dream."

"What?" They all said in unison, and Hermione smiled apologetically.

"It was in a book I read. The last thing you see is what causes the first thing. Or, in this case, the letter..."

"...Will somehow lead to my death, thanks Hermione."

"Well, er...not necessarily. Sometimes the images are more..._symbolic_, than actual..."

"I doubt Voldemort would be one to send symbolic references." He said sarcastically. "What I saw was the blunt truth...Not that we didn't see that coming anyways."

"Harry..." Hermione said consolingly.

"No." Harry sighed in frustration, head in his hands. He felt every eye in the room upon him. "Let's just...think this through. According to Hermione, somehow the letter that Ginny got will lead to what I saw in my dreams. The letter said _'one week'_, and tomorrow will be one week to the day from when we received the letter."

"Tomorrow," Lupin looked at his watch, "is in 26 minutes. Voldemort isn't going to waste any time. Whatever he has planned, he is going to want it to happen at the first possible moment that he can. The magic that has kept you safe while at your aunt and uncle's ends on your 17th birthday–_tomorrow_. Voldemort's been waiting for this for a long time."

"So if at midnight, I'm vulnerable here, why should we stay? Shouldn't we get to headquarters?"

"Where we are makes little difference. We're going to headquarters tomorrow at noon. You're safe here for now."

"Safe against Voldemort?"

"Harry. Right now, this house is surrounded by members of the Order of the Phoenix. Most of them aren't even assigned to be here. Every one of them is here to ensure that you remain safe. We're not going to let anything happen to you, even if it means a full confrontation with the Dark Lord himself in the middle of the street."

"The Order's here? Now?" Harry pictured in his mind members of the Order like McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody dressed in full Muggle camouflage and hiding in the bushes, war-paint and all.

"Of course! Do you think that they would leave you to fend for yourself? Harry,

they know how much danger you could be in, and very soon." He lowered his voice to a more serious tone. "I can assure you that everyone one of them, myself included, would rather die than let anything happen to you. To any of you."

It is a strange feeling to know that there is an entire army of people sitting at your front door, ready to give their lives to protect you.

Harry could say nothing, for he was too captivated by the full severity of the situation. Lupin appeared to notice.

"No one is going to die, Harry." He said, standing up and walking to the door. "Now, I'm going to go talk to whoever's leading the 'strike team' down there. Don't worry; I'll be back before midnight." He left with a smile, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to talk amongst themselves and come to their own conclusions about what would happen. As soon as the door shut behind him, Ginny began.

"Harry, I don't want that dream to come true."

"Trust me; I don't want it to anymore than you do."

"If Voldemort does try something," Ron started warily, "how do you think he'll do it?"

"I don't know," said Harry, sounding defeated and lost. "But whatever it is, it's going to be well thought out and playing to his best interests."

"Well, what would that be?"

"Anything that would result in the least amount of risk to him, and the greatest amount of harm to me."

Hermione whimpered next to Ron.

"What is it?" Harry asked, concerned.

"I don't know what's going to happen, Harry. I'm so afraid that what you saw was real."

"Hermione, you've never gone by Divination and dreams before. Why start now?" Ron said jokingly.

"I know--I know I never go by Divination, but...your dreams have never been exactly, well, _normal_, have they? And these cause-and-effect dreams--most of the time--they're true...All the way to the end."

There was a solemn pause in the room. "So you really think I am going to die?"

"Oh Harry! I don't...I really..." She was unable to control herself any longer and began to cry. Ron put his arms around her, comfortingly. No one spoke. They could say nothing to dispute her. Rarely ever was Hermione wrong about something, yet they all prayed that this was one of those times. After a moment, she wiped her eyes and started again.

"The scenes all relate to each other. Shown in reverse order, the first scene shows what will result from the last. All in-between just show what happens to get to that first one. You said the last thing you saw was the letter Ginny gave you. That's already happened, the process has begun. I'm not sure that there is any way to stop it..."

"So everything the Order is doing right now is for nothing? Somehow Voldemort is going to get to me anyway and torture and kill me?"

"I'm not sure...The Order is doing everything that they can. It might be enough...Harry I don't know. Maybe it was just a dream. That's the best we can hope for."

"Even if it was just a dream, all that means is that I have a better chance of living through this. It doesn't change the fact that Voldemort is still going to do something tonight. Wait," he had just thought of something, "what time is it?"

The question had been directed at no one, and he glanced at his own watch. "11:47. Assuming whatever happens _will_ happen at 12 o'clock, that means we only have 13 minutes."

"Is there anything that we should be doing?" Ron asked.

"What _can _we do?"

"I think..." Hermione said quietly, "that we should do some-sort of D.A. meeting. A little more practice couldn't hurt."

"But we aren't the ones who need to practice." Ginny said. "Harry is. What Voldemort does tonight will be focused on him, not us. Harry shouldn't spend this time teaching everyone else."

"None of us are going to learn anything new in twelve–no, eleven minutes, anyway. And we've already been practicing all day. What would we practice? We know most of everything that's going to help us. Honestly, the only spells we haven't tried are the Unforgivables, and I really don't want to be practicing any of them right now when we only have ourselves to practice on. Wait a couple more minutes and we might have some Death Eaters, though..."

"Do you really think that Voldemort is going to send Death Eaters to capture you?"

"Ginny, I wouldn't be surprised if Voldemort himself showed up in my bedroom."

"Can he do that?" Ron said fearfully, looking around as if to check that he hadn't already.

"No, of course not." Hermione said in her usual all-knowing way. "The Order put the same kind of protective spells on this house as are on Hogwarts. No one can Apparate in or out."

"Are you involving Voldemort in that collective 'no one'? Because he usually doesn't fall into the same category as most other people. Nine minutes by the way." Harry's voice was bitter, and he stood up off the bed and began pacing the floor, one hand in his hair, the other nervously twirling his wand.

For a little over two minutes he walked back and forth muttering suggestions and ideas of what's to be done. No one said anything or did anything to stop him, allowing him to vent the stress that was being thrown upon him. From his ruffling, his hair was now messier than it had ever been, sticking in odd places from perspiration. His wand was spinning so fast it was almost a blur. Only when he accidentally shot off a stream of gold sparks did he cease walking, shoving it in his pocket.

"There's nothing that can be done." He said simply. "What I saw _will_ happen. We can't stop it."

"Don't think like that. If that's the way you're going to go into this, than Voldemort has already won."

"Hermione, if Voldemort takes me now, than he _has_ won. I still have four Horcruxes to destroy before I can face him, and even have a chance of defeating him. There's nothing holding him back from killing me."

There was an awkward pause that followed, no one sure how to follow up after that. It was Ron that broke the silence with a grim reminder.

"Mate, we only have six minutes…"

Something had just occurred to Ginny. "Where is Lupin? He said he'd be right back." Her voice carried her worry.

"He's probably just reporting Harry's dream to the rest of them."

"But shouldn't he, or someone, be here? What if Voldemort decides to do something ahead of schedule?"

"He won't. Voldemort can't touch Harry before midnight, so it would be stupid to do anything before then."

"Yeah," said Ron. "And besides, _we're_ here, aren't we?"

"A lot of good that will do if Voldemort himself comes for him." Ginny snapped, nerves wearing thin. "I think we should get Lupin or Mad-Eye."

"No one is leaving. We should all stay with Harry."

"I don't want to leave him either, but we only have…" she glanced at the clock on the side table, "four minutes left!"

Harry finally couldn't take it anymore. "Will you all just shut up!"

There was instant silence in the room. All three of them stared at him with startled eyes.

"You guys are talking as if I'm going to die as soon as the clock strikes twelve! If you're all set on going by my dream, then remember he's got a few things planned before he ebbs me off. And, we're not even sure if Voldemort's going to do anything tonight! The letter said 'one week'. That gives us a 24-hour window for him to act in, _if_ he does do something! How do we know he didn't send that letter just to scare us? It could have been an open threat, just to put us on edge and drive us mad with fear!" He paused and sighed. "Well, if that's what it was; its working."

"But Harry…" Hermione interjected. "This is Voldemort's first chance for revenge in 16 years. No way he wouldn't try something. And you said it yourself: Voldemort doesn't use symbolism. If he wants something, he does it. He wouldn't send threatening messages just to get a laugh."

"I know…" Harry said as he fell back onto his bed, staring at his ceiling. He pointedly avoided making eye-contact with anyone. "I just….I don't know what to do. I'm not going to lie: I'm scared. Horrified. This time tomorrow, I _could_ be dead."

"Harry!" Ginny cried as she threw her arms around his neck, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed. "You can't die. You can't…"

Harry put his hand on her back, but could say nothing in response. It was Ron who spoke next.

"She's right, Harry. You can't. The entire Wizarding world is depending on you. You're the only one who can beat You-Know-Who, and if you die…" His voice trailed off, and Hermione continued for him.

"We need you, Harry. Everyone does." It was quiet for a moment before Ron spoke again.

"Harry. Tell me you'll make it through this. Promise me you'll survive…" Harry had never heard Ron sound so solemn and serious, and when he turned his head to face him, he saw that Ron was staring at his sister, still resting on Harry's chest.

"I swear to you all: _I am not going to die._" His voice was fierce, and he had never meant anything more in his life. Whatever happened, whatever Voldemort had in store for him, Harry would stand through it and live to the end.

A sharp tapping broke the silence that had fallen over the somber room. Everyone jumped as searched for the source, which turned out to be coming from the window. Slowly, Harry sat up, Ginny moving off him, and peered out the window.

"It's an owl…" he announced. "I think it's the one from my dream…"

"Does it have another message?" Hermione asked nervously.

"I think so…" He said, trying to see the leg better. "Should I let it in?"

"Hang on….what time is it?" Ron asked.

"11:59. One minute left."

Hermione went to the window beside him. "It does look like just an owl. I think we should see what it says."

Harry nodded and slid open the window. The large bird flew in, pushing its way between Harry and Hermione. Ginny gasped.

"That's the same bird that delivered the last letter! Harry, it's from Voldemort!"

Harry stared at the large bird that had perched itself on the edge of his bureau, waiting for him to untie the scroll.

"Well…read it, Harry." Hermione urged hesitantly. "You have to know what it says."

"No, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed. "_That letter is from Voldemort... _whatever it says isn't going to be any good. If this is just like your dream, then something bad is going to happen if you open it. Harry, don't let it come true... You prom-"

"Ginny. I have to read this letter. Hermione's right: we need to know what it says."

"At least wait for Lupin..." She pleaded.

"It's just a letter…"

"Harry..."

"Ginny, nothing's going to happen to him if he reads that paper." Ron said. "Go ahead, mate. Read it."

"But…" she pleaded.

He ignored her and took a deep breath, swallowing hard. For some reason, his fear had suddenly returned. Hastily, he untied the scroll from the leg of the sleek black owl, which flew away immediately after he did, brushing past him again. With shaking hands, he halfway unraveled the crisp parchment, on which gleaming crimson letters were discernable.

In his mind, Harry knew those letters formed words, but at the moment he took them as incomprehensible. He stared blankly down at ominous figures, eyes wide in astonishment, as he fully began to understand their meaning, hoping against hope that he was back in his dream.

A dream that he now completely understood.

A dream that he had never before been more afraid of than at this one comprehending moment.

He should have listened to Ginny.

"_Three seconds to live_..." He breathed shakily, his heart hammering a tattoo on the inside of his chest with unnatural speed. The three faces in the room that were staring at him immediately went paler than any should ever be allowed, eyes wider than their mouths were stretched.

"What?"

"No! Harry..."

Somehow they all seemed to know the words to be true, and knew there was nothing to be done. They felt dumbstruck, awed, mortified. But they would never be prepared for what was to come.

Harry looked back at the letter, unraveling it farther, until 3 shimmering numbers came into view.

"_Th-three_..." He read.

"Harry..." Ron moved towards him. But both seemed to know that there was nothing that could be done in the two remaining counters of horror.

"_Two_..." He did not want to finish the count. They somehow all knew what would happen when he did.

"Harry!" Ginny and Hermione simultaneously shouted. He caught one last glimpse at his friends' now completely horrified faces, and felt that it was the last time he would ever see them again. And with that last look at what had once been normality, he was mentally readied to face the horrors that were sure to ensue within the next few moments.

His watch beeped. It was midnight. Their time was up.

"..."

He never got to '_one_'.

AN: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Chapter IV should be up soon!

Ha, Jk, I'm just joking, this chapter isn't over yet. I wanted to annoy you all...And I thought this needed a dramatic pause, so I'll just ramble for a few seconds to build up the tension.

Don't you want to know what happened! OMG! Why wasn't he able to count to one? What's happened to Harry Potter? Will he be alright? Was it Voldemort? What did he do!

Ok, sorry, I'll stop. Now, to explain something, the next section will be running parallel to Chapter IV's time frame, so events that occur in that chapter will be the cause for what happens in this one. (That will make more sense once you read chapter IV) Thought I'd let ya know...I'll let you get back to your reading now.

"HARRY!" Ron, Hermione, and Ginny shouted together.

"What happened? Where did he go!" Hermione shrieked frantically.

"He's gotta be...he'll be right..." Ron mumbled, pale and at a loss for words.

None of them could truly grasp the truth of what had just happened. It just wasn't _possible._ He was right there...that letter couldn't have meant anything. No...It just..._no..._

"Harry..." Ginny breathed with the utmost sense of disbelief. "No..."

"What happened?" Lupin had returned, only seconds too late, running into the room after their screams. They all jumped. "What's wrong?"

"Lupin!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Who screamed? What's happened?" Lupin demanded, looking to each pale face. Then he realized that one was missing. "Where's Harry!"

"Lupin he's...he's gone!"

"What do you mean 'he's gone'!" Lupin's voice rose in panic.

"I don't know...he disappeared! A letter came and he was reading it and–Lupin! I think the letter was a Portkey!–he was reading it, it said he had three seconds to live...and then he just...he's gone!"

"What? No...That can't be..." He looked again at their faces: pale; eyes wide; jaws dropped: the look of absolute terror. They were telling the truth. He put his back to the wall and slid to the floor, hand in his hair.

"I was only gone for twenty minutes…The entire Order's here….Nothing could have happened...He was safe…" Lupin muttered in disbelief. "Are you sure…? He's gone? Do you know where it took him?"

He had asked even though he knew the answer. There was only one place a Portkey from Voldemort would take him. And that was what he most feared. No one answered. But they knew.

Hermione was in hysterical tears on her knees. Ron moved to her side and she continued to cry into the collar of his shirt.

"Lupin…what are we going to do?" He asked in complete astonishment.

"I…I don't know. We don't know where his headquarters is...We can't get there…We don't know anything….We _failed_...This isn't happening…." He was clearly in shock.

"We _have_ to get him back..." Ginny whispered. Her gaze remained focused on the spot from which Harry had gone, and she had not moved from beside the bed. "I told you this would happen. I knew that letter wasn't good. He shouldn't have read it...He can't die...We have to save him..."

"I'm not going to die." Said a voice from the doorway.

Everyone jumped and turned towards the voice. Standing in the doorframe with a smile on his face, was Harry Potter.

"Harry?" They exclaimed together in shock. Ginny jumped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. He hesitated for a moment and returned it awkwardly. She was almost in tears, and she breathed deep, sobering breaths again into his chest.

"Harry. What happened? Where did you go? Are you alright?" Lupin asked all at once, returning back to sense and hoisting himself off the floor to examine Harry.

"Gave us a right good scare." Ron said, he, too, regaining his normal composure again. "Thought we lost you..."

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes, smiling in disbelief. "For a moment–we did...Harry, wh...?" she questioned.

"I dunno. The letter was a Portkey." He said simply.

"We so much figured, thank you. Where did it take you?" Lupin asked seriously, staring him in the eye. Ginny had now moved to Harry's side, so as not to be in the way of questions, but still rested her head on his shoulder and tightly held his hand.

Harry's eyes lingered on the window for a moment before he answered. "It took me outside. To the street."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. So I could be vulnerable?"

"But what good did it do? Why would You-Know-Who take you outside if you were just able to walk right back in? Nothing happened to you. You're not hurt..." Ron said, confused.

"Maybe it was just a test to see if a Portkey would work now?" Hermione suggested.

"But why would he make it go just outside? Why not try to take him to his headquarters? Unless..." Remus stopped and went quickly to the window.

"Unless what? What is it?"

"Harry. When you were out there, did you see anyone else? Anyone at all?"

"Er...no. Why?"

"Because the moment you stepped outside you should have been surrounded by members of the Order."

Hermione gasped. "Do you think the Death Eaters got them if they were waiting for Harry?"

"I don't think so...We would have heard something. But that could only mean..."

He went to the window again, this time with his wand out. He performed an odd flick and muttered some spell and the phoenix that was the symbol of the Order flew out to communicate with any member that might be out there. Within a moment, another had returned.

"I thought so." He said under his breath.

"What?"

"Ron, Hermione, Ginny. Go outside to the Order members while Harry and I get some things together: we're going to headquarters immediately."

"I thought we were going at noon?"

"Change of plans. Outside, now."

No one debated and nodded silently, fearful of Lupin's tone. Ginny detached herself from Harry's side and joined Hermione and her brother in the hall outside the door. But as soon as she stepped out, it slammed behind her and locked.

"Harry! Lupin!"

"Its alright, we're just getting a few things...straightened out." His response was muffled through the door. "Just go outside, I'll be right out."

Inside the room, Harry was staring at Lupin fearfully.

"What are you doing, Lupin?"

"I just want to ask you a few questions."

"W-why?"

"Safety precautions. Just to be sure you are who you say you are. Tell me, Harry. What is my name?"

"R-Remus Lupin..." He said obviously, yet wary of doing so.

"What is my _other_ name?"

Harry hesitated and looked around nervously. "Moony?"

"Hmm. Why are you wearing robes? When I left you were in night clothes."

"I, uh, changed after you left. To be ready…" He stuttered.

Lupin nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me. What was my favorite prank at Hogwarts?"

Harry looked determined to get this one right; otherwise Lupin would never believe him. He thought for a second before coming up with an answer. "Charming books to Sirius' hands to make him study." He replied earnestly.

"Yes, that was one of my more brilliant ideas. And you got a good laugh out of it too, didn't you, _Peter_?"

"What...! I, er..."

Within an instant, Lupin's wand was pressing into the imposter Harry's cheek, who was on his knees before him.

"Wormtail! What have you done with Harry?"

"Remus, _please..."_

"WHERE IS HE?" He demanded, pushing his old, traitorous friend onto his back.

"It doesn't matter..." Harry's face twisted and smiled evilly, even as he cowered under the wand. "He can't escape. He's going to die, and there's nothing you can do to save him..."

Remus shoved his wand into the stomach of the betrayer before him, and sent a shot of red light into him. It acted like a bolt of electricity, and Peter in the body of Harry yelped and jolted as the result.

"God dammit, Peter! This is the son of someone who was once your best friend that you are talking about! This is his body you are in! Why are you doing this? Is it for the glory, the reward? You are already responsible for the death of two of the Potters, but you wanted the third one too? Is this what you wanted? When you signed up with Voldemort and took the Dark Mark, was all this in the job description, or was it just an added bonus?" His voice cracked and wavered as a result of rage and the realization that Harry really was going to die if he didn't do something about it.

He sent another bolt into Pettigrew, hoping to relieve the mounting stress and fear. Peter screamed again, and Lupin had to remind himself that it wasn't Harry he was really hurting, even though that was what looked like it. He took a deep breath.

"Now where is Harry?"

"I'm...I'm sorry Remus..."

"Sorry could never possibly cover what you have done." He seethed. "Now tell me where he is!"

"I told you...I told you...You can't get there...there's nothing you can do..."

"So you expect me to do nothing? I am not going to let Harry die, no matter what. Especially if you have anything to do with it. After everything you have done, you don't deserve to live. I should have killed you while I had the opportunity. I only stopped myself because Harry thought you deserved a second chance. And this is how you repay him for saving your life? Well, he's not here now...and sadly I would have no remorse at killing you...I have no reason to keep you alive."

"Remus, _please..._Don't kill me...Please don't kill me..."

"You're lucky that's the only thing I'm going to do to you..." he said. "Now, last chance. Tell me where he is!"

"N-no. You cannot save him, Lupin. He's as good as dead."

"Wrong answer." He brought his wand up to say the spell that would end that rat's life...and found himself staring into the fear-filled emerald eye's of the boy he was trying to save. He couldn't kill Pettigrew...at least not if he looked like Harry. He lowered his wand slightly and sighed as he reached into his pocket.

"Remus? Thank you, thank you…!" Pettigrew crawled foreword to Lupin's feet, but Lupin kicked him off.

"Get off of me you filthy bastard! I'm not saving you...Drink this." He shoved a small vial of a purple potion into one of Harry's hands. "Now."

"Why would I do that? What's it do?"

"Changes you back to your pathetic form before the Polyjuice would wear off. I want to see the light leave your eyes, not Harry's. Now drink it!" Lupin pointed his wand at him again.

Harry's shaky hands slowly uncorked the small vial and brought it to his lips. With a look at Lupin who returned it with a forceful nod and fiery eyes, he tilted it back into his mouth.

The affects were almost instantaneous. Within moments, the form of Harry Potter had morphed back into that of the traitorous Peter Pettigrew.

Lupin looked down at him one last time in disgust and loathing.

"Goodbye, Peter." He closed his eyes as he readied himself to kill someone who was once his best friend. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

But the spell never left his lips, for in an instant, Pettigrew had stood up and clamped his metallic hand around Lupin's neck, cutting off air and voice. There was a deep hissing sound as the flesh on his neck burned away, and both were reminded of the fatal affects of silver on werewolves. Lupin struggled to get free, but could do nothing to escape the confining grip of the metal appendage. Slowly, the silver and lack of air took their toll, and Remus' eyes slid back into his head and his eyelids closed, his body limp. Pettigrew released his grip from the throat of his old friend, and the limp form fell unceremoniously to the floor.

"Goodbye, Remus."

The door slammed open and members of the Order of the Phoenix rushed in, just as Peter had changed into his Animagus form. He darted out the door between their feet unnoticed, fleeing to his master and leaving them to wonder what had happened to Remus Lupin and Harry Potter.

AN: Well...that's all for this chapter. And I'm serious this time, sorry. Chapter IV will be able to explain a little more and you will find out what has happened to Harry. (But if you read DCUA then you should already know). Hope it was ok. Please review any comments or thoughts that you had at all. Really. Anything. If you were reading this and for some reason thought of your grandmother's socks...or a giant cat eating muffins, put it in a review. I'll take anything, as long as I know that some people out there are reading this and making it to the end.

I'll try and update soon. Really...well, that's the plan at least. It's summer vacation! I have all the time in the world...

BTW: If you haven't noticed, I'm changing all the titles into words that end in

-ation or -ition. Each word will have something to do with the chapter. (I know, its kinda lame, but I thought it would be cool) But…it's really hard to think of words for all of the 24 expected chapters, so if any of you have any suggested words, I'll see if they fit. Your help would be greatly appreciated. And...If I have the title and the basic plot of the chapter, I will be able to update for you all sooner.

I'll stop rambling now.

May the Force be with you. DISAPPARATES


	4. Explanation July 31

1**AN:** I just wanted to start off by saying THANK YOU TO ALL MY REVIEWERS. It really means a lot to know that there are people out there that are actually reading and enjoying some of the things that I have been trying to write. I'll thank you again in the end AU, but for now I'll just let you get to the next chapter.

DISCLAIMER: Is this really necessary? We all know who Harry Potter belongs to, and all of you know that it is not me. What would happen if I did say that I owned everything related to Harry Potter? Would JK Rowling appear out of no where and tell me that I don't? Would she never let me write again and make sure all credit is given to her? Wait...If JKR comes to me, then I could hold her hostage until she tells me what happens in the last book...

ANTI-DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER BELONGS TO ME!

(You'll know if JK comes if my next chapter is written immensely better.)

OH! And I'm just going to add something to give you all a better visual: The Death Eaters in my story DO NOT wear those ridiculous KKK hoods as seen in the movie, nor do they have those skull masks. Plain and simple, just black masks and hoods. Rounded hoods, not pointed. Just picture them as that from now on, because I hate the movie version...lets stay with what Rowling has intended...Go look at page 644 in Goblet of Fire. See? No points...

I'll let you get to your reading now.

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**CHAPTER IV: **

**EXPLANATION**

Harry's feet slammed to the ground and his knees buckled, causing him to topple over and fall to the stone floor. Hard.

"..._One_." He breathed, wincing as he scrambled to his feet. He looked around where he stood for any sign of where he might be, but could see nothing beyond his own hands. He pulled his wand out from his pocket, thankful he had placed it there, and relieved it had survived the fall.

"Lumos." The light issued from the tip illuminated enough only for him to be able to see a small path ahead of him. In his other hand he realized he still clutched the letter, and noticed it was not fully uncoiled. Unraveling it an inch or two further, another line of text was discernable in the shimmering ink.

"Welcome to the Serpent's Lair."

The crimson handwriting of the Dark Lord clearly referred to his present location, where the letter that had truly been a Portkey had been planned to take him. That one line showed that Voldemort had been able play Harry so well that he knew exactly the amount of time that he would take to read the letter and be taken to 'The Serpent's Lair': clearly the name that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had come up with for their headquarters.

_No...This can't be happening...I can't really be here, alone, with him_...Overwhelming fear began to build inside him as sense finally kicked in and he realized how serious a situation this was. He couldn't even begin to grasp the idea that he was really here, let alone think of what to do, or how he could ever escape.

A thought occurred to him: maybe he could Apparate out of here. He hadn't yet passed the test, but he had done it before, in a dire situation where it was the only choice. And now, once again, those were the circumstances.

He tried to calm down, if that was even possible, and concentrated on being back in his bedroom at Number 4, safely away with Lupin and his best friends. With eyes closed, he forced himself to be there, and tried to make the jump. At first, he had the familiar tube-squeezed feeling as he felt himself being transported and was ecstatic that it had actually worked. But then it felt as though a metal ceiling had been placed above him and he had crashed into it at full force. Harry fell back to the ground, head throbbing painfully. Apparently, you could not just Disapparate from 'The Serpent's Lair.'

Harry rubbed his head absentmindedly as he tried to think of what he could do. He had known that as soon as he opened the letter that something like this would occur, but he did not think fully through to come up with a plan of what to do when it happened.

And what about the Order of the Phoenix? Surely they, too, would be working on a way to save him. Unbelievably, with all the added security measures that they had been providing, Voldemort had still managed to take Harry away.

_It's my own fault. I should have listened to Ginny and waited for Lupin. He would have known that there was something wrong with the letter._ He crumpled the parchment in frustration and crammed it into the pocket of his plaid-print pajama bottoms. He was ashamed that this was what he had to face the Dark Lord in, and wished he knew a spell that could change what you were wearing. But what would it matter anyway? Does it really matter what clothes you are in when you are going to be killed in the next few moments?

He hoisted himself off the ground with the hand that did not hold his wand, the thing that was now his only hope for survival against the forces of the Dark Lord. Harry knew he was here, somewhere in this building, waiting for him. Waiting to _kill_ him. It was now only a matter of time before it happened.

He raised the holly staff high to extend his field of view. To his left was a narrow, stone hallway, and, not seeing anything else making itself available to him, Harry had the sense that this was where he was supposed to go. With no other option and no hope for escape, he started his walk for the door that lay at the end of it, and whatever may lie beyond...

The walkway closely resembled that of those that lead down to the dungeons and potions rooms of Hogwarts. It was cold, and had an arched ceiling, and on the walls were brackets that might have once held flaming candles. Spattered between two of those brackets was a dark substance that looked eerily like blood. Harry closed his eyes and fought back a wave of fear-induced nausea.

_What the hell was he doing here? _At this moment, he was, with no doubt, walking toward his own death. _Why wasn't he running; trying to get out before it was too late?_ _There has to be another door somewhere...There has to be an exit. _But he knew, in the back of his subconscious mind, that there was no escape, that nothing could prevent what was to come. Harry continued to walk forward, ready to face whatever was to come.He gripped his wand tighter with a sweaty palm.

The handle on the black door before him was one of tarnished silver, crafted into the form of a twisting snake. With a deep breath that could very well have been his last, he reached out toward it. But there was no need to apply any force, for as soon as he hesitantly extended his arm, it swung away from him, opening into the darker room that lay behind.

This was it. This was the point where he chose to either walk forward and face his end or turn and run and hope for escape. He took a deep breath, and reached forward toward the darkness...

He turned and ran.

But he didn't get far, for as soon as he put his back to the door and began his sprint, he was immediately halted, bare feet skidding against the stone. He instinctively raised his wand in hope of defending himself from what stood before him: a mass of black-clad Death Eaters, with their own wands drawn toward him. **(AN: remember, no pointed hoods.)** Someone snapped their fingers, and the hall was eerily lit in a faint glow from small, swirling fires that were centered on the empty brackets. They burned with a green flame.

"Going somewhere, Potter?" The cold voice spoke from amongst the black shadows, and Harry didn't need to see the face to know who was speaking.

"Bellatrix!" He exclaimed, raising his wand higher to point at his unseen foe. He had not seen her since that night at the Ministry of Magic. The night that she had killed his godfather, Sirius Black. And he wanted her dead.

"I see you haven't forgotten me, Potter. I'm touched." She taunted from somewhere amongst the black crowd.

"Where are you?" Harry shouted, searching the face-hiding masks. "Show yourself!"

"Do you want to finish our duel, boy, is that it?" She said, one of the black shapes moving forward.

"No...I want to kill you!"

"Ah, even better. In that case..." She stepped out from the crowd, but someone grabbed her arm.

"Bella, don't..." The unrecognized voice said warningly, but showed no real enforcement. She shrugged off the hand and ignored him.

With robed arms outstretched, she stood before him. Alone, defenseless, vulnerable. "Take your shot." She tempted.

Harry didn't know what she was doing. Why would she willingly give herself to him so easily? Did she not think he was capable of killing her? The Death Eaters behind her were tense, anticipating what was to come. If they did not think he had the will for revenge, then he was severely underestimated.

He pointed his wand directly toward her, not caring for the consequences of what he was about to do. Too many people had died, too many had suffered. And it was time someone paid for it. This might be the only chance he ever had, and he was taking it. He remembered what she had once told him about the Unforgivable curses, how you really had to mean them to use them. He had never wanted anything more. He thought of Sirius, of Dumbledore, of Ginny...and he bellowed his curse.

What the hell, he was going to be killed anyway, right?

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The words felt exotic coming from his mouth, and they seemed to burn his lips like poison. He felt cold and heartless, high on adrenaline, fear, and the sweet feeling of triumphant revenge. The green light flew forward and drove through the heart of his target, and he eagerly waited for the moment when she fell dead before him.

And he waited...and waited...But it did not come; she did not fall.

She stood before him...and _laughed..._

"You cannot kill us, Potter." She smiled at him evilly. "_No one_ can kill us...We are invincible!"

"No...how..?" Harry sputtered in shock. That spell should have killed her instantly. How is it possible that it had no effect? And, bloody hell, _had he just tried to murder someone?_

"The power of the Dark Lord, boy. And it is in your best interests to give into it." She motioned to the crowd, and several Death Eaters stepped forward toward Harry. He backed away, but two of them grabbed his arms to keep him from escaping. The third reached for him with a silver hand.

"Wormtail!" He screamed at him in recognition, but the black figure remained silent. The other Death Eaters held Harry still as Wormtail's silver hand harshly ripped out several strands of Harry's hair.

"Ouch!" He cried in surprise, tears stinging his eyes from the unexpected sharp pain. "What was that for?"

"Come, come, Potter. You should know better than us the ingredients needed for a Polyjuice Potion." Bellatrix said as Wormtail slithered back, disappearing amongst the crowd.

The first question he thought of was what they would need that for, but instead was concerned with how she had said it. "How would you know about that?"

"We have our sources; we know far more than you think. Now release him, it is time."

The Death Eaters loosened their grip on his arm, and Harry twisted away and backed into the door behind him. But his weight on the already ajar door pushed it fully open, and he was no longer leaning against it, but falling into the dark room beyond. He landed on his backside, the Death Eaters stopping their approach and laughing at his clumsiness. But Harry realized he was still leaning against something, but it did not feel like the door. It felt more like...

Slowly he turned his head to look over his shoulder, afraid at what he knew to be behind him. And sure enough, as he looked back, Harry saw that he was leaning against the black robes of a tall figure. Tilting his head up fearfully, he glanced into the scarlet, gleaming eyes that shone from a pale, skull face.

Harry had fallen back against Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself. He scrambled to his feet to face him, utterly mortified and unable to say a word. His eyes were wide, jaw ajar, breathing fast and wavering, but he tried with all his strength not to show his fear. But when you are looking at the face of evil itself, it's nearly impossible to show any amount of bravery.

"Welcome, Harry." He hissed. At that moment, Harry's wand decided to fly into the outstretched, summoning, long-fingered hand. "You will have no use for this." With that, he snapped it in two, directly before Harry. It made a loud crack and several final sparks shot out. The sound it made might as well have been Harry's neck, for without his wand, he stood no chance. He didn't even have time to protest, and was too stunned to exclaim his shock.

Voldemort nodded to one of the Death Eater's behind Harry, all of which were kneeling respectfully on one knee. The called figure rose and came forward, taking the shards that were once Harry's wand that were being offered to him. He bowed and backed away, turning to go back down the hall.

"As for the rest of you, you may leave. I have no use for you at the moment."

Harry heard the Death Eaters stand and leave reverently, but there was a clear feeling of apprehension among them. One fool had the nerve to question the dictation.

"M-master...You had p-promised us a chance to...t-torture the boy..."

"And Lord Voldemort retains his promises. Did you doubt that I would?" Harry was chilled by the harsh hissing voice, and was glad it was not directed at him.

"N-no, Master...Forgive me...I was only..."

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort sent the spell whizzing past Harry's left ear. Harry did not need to turn around to know that the spell had hit its intended target. There was a soft thump as the body fell to the ground, dead.

"Take it to the Incinerary." He ordered with disgust. "And let this show what happens to anyone who dares rebuke what I say. Let your confidences never waver again."

Harry could hear the sound of hurried footsteps and something heavy being dragged away as the Death Eaters all but fled the corridor. After that, it was just himself and Voldemort.

The Dark Lord said nothing. He simply lifted his finger and Harry found himself levitated off his feet. Voldemort turned and entered the shadowed room, Harry being forced to follow. As soon as he was in, the door slammed shut. For a moment, the room was encased entirely in darkness. Harry's feet again touched the ground, and a snap from Voldemort ignited the same green-flamed torches from the hall. Harry noticed that they had brass serpents entwined about them, something he could not see before.

Voldemort flicked his wand, and a solitary wooden chair appeared behind Harry.

"Sit," he commanded, and Harry did not dare to dispute.

For the longest time, neither of them said anything. Harry doubted that he would have been able to anyway, for fear had clenched his throat. He realized that he had never been more afraid in his life. Not in the Chamber of Secrets; not in the Graveyard; not even the events that had happened in the Cave in June; nothing could compare to the overwhelming sense of terror he was experiencing right now. Harry sat helplessly before all the power of the Dark Lord himself, and as he looked into those crimson eyes, he knew that he would not be leaving here alive.

"Harry Potter..." He drawled. It took Harry a moment to realize that it was said in Parseltongue, the snakelike hissing making it far more chilling than it would have been if said without. He continued to address him in the serpentine language. "What an_ honor_ it is to have you before me. _The-Boy-Who-Lived_...We shall see if you live up to that title."

He paced the floor before Harry, not taking his scarlet eyes off him. Harry stared back with his own wide green ones. Voldemort walked around him, and when he had left Harry's field of vision, Harry braced himself in apprehension for an attack. After a few seconds when nothing occurred, Harry unclenched his eyes. Inches from his face was the white skull of the Dark Lord.

"Are you scared, Harry?" He mocked him. His breath was warm and putrid as he hissed so close to Harry's face.

Harry drew as far back in the chair as he could without tipping it over. He stammered his answer. "N-no."

"Liar." He simply said. He straightened up and stood a few feet away. It was another few moments before he spoke again.

"Do you know why you are here, Harry Potter?"

It took Harry a moment to find and strengthen his voice, willing himself not to show his insurmountable fear. He failed. "So you can kill me."

Voldemort gave a short laugh before responding in Parseltongue. "You know from your dreams that is not what I have planned for you. Tell me, Harry, what is to happen..?"

"You're going to torture me." He was astounded by the amount of courage and resolve in his own voice.

"Oh, yes! Without doubt, I will do so. But that is not _why _you are here." He paused to allow Harry time to absorb this. He continued once he saw the look of fearful recognition dawn upon the boy's face. "Now, Harry. Why are you _really_ here?"

Harry looked away to the stone ground in stunned disbelief. "You...you w-want me to t-take the Dark Mark..." He turned his head back to Voldemort and spoke incredulously. "You want me to become a Death Eater!"

Voldemort smiled a cruel, twisted smile of satisfaction. "I'm glad you've caught on so soon."

Harry was stunned. "Why would you want to make me a Death Eater? I thought you wanted me dead!"

Harry couldn't understand the look on Voldemort's face as he spoke to him, continually in the language of snakes.

"I have only ever wanted you dead because, I will admit it, you pose a threat to me. I had thought that if I eliminated you, I would become unstoppable. But you, Harry, have proved yourself very difficult to be disposed of. No matter how many attempts are made against your life, you always seem to walk away unscathed."

"I knew you were powerful. I had known even before the occurrences of that night some 16 years ago. How could you not be with your lineage? And even as I said the curse that would end your life, the spell that would begin my irrefutable reign, I had doubts. Should someone harnessing a power this intense be gotten rid of so easily?

"I decided that it did not matter. You were a threat to my own power and could not be kept alive. But I knew as soon as the curse touched you that I had made the wrong decision. Instead of killing you I should have brought you back with me, raised you amongst the Death Eaters to become the most powerful in their ranks. You could have been the most fearsome of all warriors. But I had underestimated your true strength, and for my own greed. I had payed most dearly for my naivety that night.

"But now, Harry, fate has granted me another chance. A chance that I will not take lightly. I do not want you killed. I want you to side with me. You have heard the Prophecy, Potter, you know what it says. _'For either must die at the hands of the other.' _This means that only you can kill me, but, in return, only _I_ can kill _you_. If we were to join together, we would be invincible. _Immortal._ The world would be placed in our hands to control.

"You, Harry, are the only person with whom I would ever consider sharing this power. Isn't that something that you want? You have never been in a situation where you could exert your full force, Dumbledore assured that. He kept you back, he restrained you from becoming what you were truly destined to be. Why? He _feared_ you, Harry. He was afraid that if he did not restrict you then you would become more powerful than him. And, without doubt, you would have.

"If you were allowed to rise to your full potential, you would have become indestructible. Wizards everywhere would have revered your name much like they do mine. Your powers would have belittled my own. But Dumbldore kept you back...

"I wouldn't do that, Harry. I would never restrain a wizard from becoming what they are truly meant to be. That's why I don't want you dead. I want you to live, live the life that you were destined to. I would train you, teach you all that I know. Together, we could become more than any wizard has ever dreamed of becoming. All that I ask, is that you take the Mark of loyalty to me. Become a Death Eater to become what you are meant to be."

Harry was shaking in rage. How could he say something like that? After all that he had done, how could Voldemort possibly expect Harry to side with him? Dumbledore had never held him back; that was a lie. He didn't have any 'great potential' to be withheld from anyway.

"Dumbledore has kept _nothing_ from me..." Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Hasn't he, Potter?" Voldemort incited. "Not once has he even withheld_ information_ from you?"

"No...he wouldn't do that. He told me everything..." But as Harry thought back, the temptation of doubt crept into his mind.

"Did it not take him nearly 16 years to discuss the contents of the Prophecy with you? Did he not force you to live with _Muggles_ for the first 10 crucial years of your life? If I am correct, you did not even learn of the existence of the wizarding world until you received your letter of acceptance to Hogwarts! He has told you nothing of the plans of the 'Order of the Phoenix', even though it is you who has more right to know than any of them. You say Dumbledore has kept nothing from you?"

"He...he couldn't tell me. He said I was too young. But he wanted to tell me everything..."

"But he didn't, did he? He has never told you anything without first being prompted, and still then was it hesitant. You have no idea what the old fool was hiding from you, Potter. He has kept from you more than you will ever know, because he has taken those secrets to his grave."

"What else could he have been keeping from me?" Harry shouted indignantly. He wanted to know everything that Voldemort was talking about, but he knew that the Dark Lord would only allow that if decided to side with him. As much as he wanted to know, settling his curiosity was not something to trade the damnation of the world for. "If he had wanted me to know, he would have told me!"

Voldemort stood back and smiled, and Harry knew he was preparing to reveal some dire revelation. "Has Dumbledore ever told you about your family, Harry?" He hissed out in almost whisper.

"What? What about my family?" Harry was taken aback.

"Apparently, he hasn't. Haven't you ever wondered _how_ you are so powerful? Why I choose you to fulfil the Prophecy? I choose you over a _pureblood,_ Harry. Why would I ever do such a thing, if not for a good reason?"

"Because you saw yourself in me. We were similar..."

Voldemort snarled. "Dumbledore told you that. That was his reasoning. He thought that I had chosen you because we were both _half-bloods_. But he lied to you, again. Yes, Potter, we are similar...but only in the fact that we are both descendants of Hogwarts House founders."

Harry blinked. That couldn't be right. He wasn't a descendant...

"Think I'm lying again, Harry? Why else would the Sorting Hat put you into Gryffindor if it saw my own power, _Slytherin's power_, within you? It is not because you asked it to, boy, the Hat doesn't take requests! It put you in Gryffindor because you are a Gryffindor _by blood_. Your entire father's side was."

"No...no, I'm not..." Harry said in disbelief. "I can't be..."

"Yes, Harry. You are the final Heir of Godric Gryffindor." Voldemort stood back and watched as his words took their affect.

Harry sat in stunned disbelief. _No. No, I'm not. He's saying this to get me to turn against Dumbledore. Dumbledore would have told me that...he would have told me if I was Gryffindor's Heir...I'm not...I can't be..._

But Harry realized that these were the exact words he had uttered upon the discovery of him being a wizard. When Hagrid had told him in that hut on the sea, he had denied it, refused to believe it to be possible. But just because he didn't believe the truth then, doesn't mean he had to believe this lie now...

"Deny it all you want, Harry, but you cannot avoid the truth. You are Gryffindor's Heir whether you choose to believe it or not. That's why I choose you. I knew that if you had the blood of a Founder in your veins then you would amount to something far greater than anyone else had foreseen. Even without his blood, you would have been great; but with it, you are unvanquishable..."

Voldemort was cut short by the sound of laughter echoing throughout the stone room. He looked genuinely shocked at the sound of it. He looked at the boy before him, who wasn't even trying to control his bout of insanity.

"What do you find so funny? I see nothing you would consider humorous..."

Harry continued to laugh, tears rolling down his face. "This is a dream!" He finally was able to shout out after somewhat subduing his laughs. "This is all a dream! None of it's real! I actually thought I had been taken captive, but no way that could have happened: I have the entire Order on my doorstep! And then I find out that Voldemort wants me as a Death Eater _and_ I'm the Heir of Gryffindor? This is just a twisted version of the same dream I've been having for a month!"

Voldemort began to laugh too, but his laugh was nothing like Harry's. It was cold and mirthless.

Harry got out of his chair and walked to a door on the other side of the room. He gave Voldemort a short wave as he put his hand on the doorknob. "Well, I think I've had enough of this dream. I'll have to tell Ron, he'll find it brilliant...So, Voldy, if you don't mind I'm just gonna head on out...Many other dreams to get to...Gotta catch up on my _beauty _sleep. Wouldn't hurt you to, either...Good luck on getting the 'Heir of Gryffindor' to become a Death Eater..."

"You. Stupid. Fool." Voldemort said, shaking his head in disbelief. Harry didn't notice as he slipped a hand into the pocket of his robes and drew out a wand. "I didn't want to do this so soon, but you leave me no other choice..."

"Artaithum!" The Dark Lord bellowed the spell and a large silvery-green snake erupted from the end of his wand and connected with Harry's chest. Instantly, Harry was on the floor, convulsing in pain. It seemed as if every inch of him had been ignited in flame, and he screamed with the pain of it far louder than he had ever screamed before. He was lost in an unknown world of pure torment, and he was no longer in touch with his surroundings. His skin split into deep, freely bleeding gashes that covered his entire body. It was as if he was being whipped with a scorching iron rod that ripped and charred his flesh with the jagged pieces of glass and metal that it contained. Before his eyes were visions of his friends as they were put under the same spell, their mutilated, dead bodies being burned and disposed of. All hope and joy had been sucked from the world and shredded into infinitesimal pieces. And in the back of his semi-conscious mind, the Dark Lord was whispering that if he took the Dark Mark, all of this would be over, everything would be put right...

An eternity had passed, and finally, Voldemort had lifted the spell. Harry was no longer laughing, but instead, laying on the floor crying in pain as he gasped for breath. His face was drenched with his own tears and sweat, and his arms, legs, and chest were all painfully bleeding, the thick warm liquid oozing down. Bruises were already appearing on his torn skin. The deep lacerations that covered him slowly began to fade into faint pink scars, but he still remained covered in his own blood.

"Holy...fucking...God..." They were the only words that could ever possibly some that up. It wasn't a dream...it _isn't _a dream...This was all real. He really was captured by Voldemort, he really was the Heir of Gryffindor, and Voldemort really did want him as a Death Eater. This wasn't a dream...this was a living nightmare...

"That, Harry, was the Artathus. I've never used that on anyone before, but I must say that I am pleased with the result. Hopefully now you realize the full severity of your situation."

Voldemort snapped his fingers and three Death Eaters Apparated inside the room. They performed a levitating charm on Harry, and he was lifted off the floor and carried through the door, making no effort to try and escape. He couldn't clearly see the hallway that lay beyond due to his smashed glasses. He allowed them to slip off his sweat-drenched face and fall to the floor; they would be no use to him now anyway.

The Death Eaters led him into an even darker hall that seemed to have small doors leading off of it. Harry was taken to one of the doors and the charm was released, causing him to fall inside. He winced as his already sore body scraped the stone. Without a word, the Death Eaters left, magically sealing the door behind them. Harry was left in a cell of utter darkness. He vaguely heard the Death Eaters leave, before he realized that another presence had taken their place outside his door.

_Bloody hell, please...no..._

He groaned to himself in desperation, praying that his suspicions weren't true. But even as he did, he was overcome by and immense cold and a desperate feeling of helplessness and despair. He shivered violently. Voldemort was using Dementors to guard his cells.

Harry's thoughts swam around him as he heard his mother screaming for life. Grotesque and fearful images appeared before him ceaselessly. Visions of his parents' death, a bright green light, the graveyard revival, the Dark Mark burning black, Cedric's lifeless stare, Voldemort rising from the cauldron, Death Eaters, the repetitive dreams, the Artathus, Sirius falling though the veil, the Prophecy, Dumbledore's crumpled form as he suffered in the cave, Dumbledore's dead body Voldemort at full strength, an image of his own mangled body at death...Then nothing but darkness, and pain, and cold, his suffering even penetrating unconsciousness.

It seems is was only minutes before a Death Eater was shoving a boot in his chest, yet he knew it was more like hours. He cried out as he was hit with another blow before being pulled by his hair to his feet. They forcefully led him out into the dark hall, and directed him back into the room from the night before. In the center of the room waiting for him was Voldemort.

Harry stumbled in deliriously. A harsh jab to the back forced him to his knees before the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters left, and he was left bowing before him. Voldemort wasted no time.

"So, Harry." He hissed in Parseltongue. "Did you enjoy your _beauty sleep_?"

Harry winced and groaned inwardly, mortified that he had actually said that to the Dark Lord only hours before.

Voldemort did not expect an answer and continued. "I am willing to forget that incident, if you are willing to consider my offer. Take my Mark, or die."

Of course, Voldemort had to make it that simply complex. Give him two options and choose one, both of which are as bad as the other. If he took the Mark, he would be betraying his friends and going against everything he had ever believed in. But if he died...he would take with him the fate of the world because Voldemort would become immortal.

"Neither." was all Harry could think to say.

"That is not a choice, boy."

"Well, I didn't like the options you gave me so I made my own." Harry replied sarcastically, knowing he would probably regret it. But what more could the Dark Lord do to him?

"Fool. So what do you plan to do? Sit there and wait for a rescue?"

"Uh, yeah. Actually, I am."

Voldemort actually laughed. "No one can save you, Harry. This building was built by Salazar Slytherin himself: it is impenetrable. And with the spells I have added, it has more than Hogwarts itself. There are no doors, there are no windows. The only way that someone can get in or out is if I allow them to. There will be no rescue.

"Now, I ask you again. Which do you choose."

"Neither," he said with resolve.

"Artaithum!" Again Harry felt the strength and horrors of the spell as it ravaged him. His body thrashed madly and appeared spasmodic as the previous wounds erupted again and spilled out the dark, shimmering crimson. You could almost hear the sound of tearing flesh beneath the rabid screams. Voldemort watched with glee as the boy before him begged for it to end. Eventually, he granted his pleas.

As the spell was lifted, Harry remained immobile, his breathing sharp and shallow. Voldemort pointed his wand at him again. "Ennervate." Instantly, Harry's eyes snapped open, the color mirroring that of the flames that were the room's only source of illumination. He leaned to his side and coughed, spitting up blood.

"Unconsciousness will not be an escape. I will use this spell, everyday, all day, reawakening you when necessary, until you have given me your answer."

"I will n-never side with you." Harry spat. "I will never b-become one of your hell-damned followers."

"We shall see, Harry. Artaithum!"

Again, Harry felt his flesh ripping open and tearing apart, creating gorges of freshly flowing blood. His scar had actually burst in pain and was now contributing to the gushing crimson streams. He felt the intense scorching sensation throughout ever fiber of his being as though he had been lit aflame by the very fires of hell itself. Searing slashes appeared over the entirety of his tormented body as he thrashed madly on the stone floor, begging for it to end. He had no sense of where he was or what was happening. All that was there was him and this all-consuming pain. His mind was wiped blank of all thought, but horrible images kept flashing before him. Images of suffering, of pain, of death. And he knew that is was somehow his fault. A voice beckoned to him from the distance, saying that everything would end if he just agreed. All he had to do was take this Mark, and it would all be over...but over that calming voice was his own, and it was screaming at him to never give in. But the pain! Everything hurt so bad. All he had to do was consent to its application and he would never be hurt again...only that, and it would all be over...

As the spell was ceased, Harry found himself crumpled on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He stopped screaming and just lay there, gasping for air. He looked at the gashes that covered his body, and they began to slowly recede and heal over, covering him in faint pink scars. His face was drenched in sweat, tears, and blood, and his eyes began to roll madly towards the back of his head. The room spun and tilted wildly and Harry became nauseous. He leaned over and vomited viciously, contributing more blood to the pool he had already created.

His entire body was shaking as he lay there, drained of all energy and unable to move. He felt cold and sick, and could still feeling the ebbing's of the immense pain. Voldemort was talking but he couldn't hear him, not that he would have wanted to anyways. Harry's eyes drooped shut as they rolled away and he passed into the dark and troubled world of unconsciousness, praying that he wouldn't again be awakened by that black essence of evil itself.

This was only day one.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**AN: **Well, I'm sorry to leave you here, but that's all for this chapter. V should be up shortly. But now, all I have to say is that I am in shock. Not two days after I wrote the author's note at the top of this fic did my thumb drive die. My thumb drive is a USB device on which been saving everything I have written for the past 3 years. Well, its gone. I have nothing else. Updates after this could take longer than before, but I really really promise that I'm going to try. Its just really hard to lose everything you have ever written and have to start over again from scratch. I had SO much stuff saved on there for this fic...now I have to try and remember it and piece it all back together. I really want to get all the way through this story, so I'm not giving up. Its just a minor set back, that's all. Its like playing Candyland and your right at the Kandy Kastle when you get a card to go back to that ugly plum tree guy at the start. Wow, I did just compare my life to Candyland. I think I'm going to go now.

WAIT! I just thought of something! I reread my AN at the beginning, saying that "I own Harry Potter" and "maybe JK will come and stop me." OMG! JKR destroyed my thumb drive so I couldn't take credit for her work! She came to my house and killed it! Or maybe she sent some internet virus to eliminate it. I don't know! Aw...but what I do know is that I still don't know what happens in Book 7. Darn you JK. And now, I'll be lucky to write the next chapters at all, let alone write them immensely better...and, I daresay, I really need to step it up a notch.

I'm going to go slave over remembering minute details from later chapters so I can continue to post for your enjoyment and my own sanity.

May the Force be with you.

nods head and DISAPPARATES

loud crack as I Apparate back.

Oh! About some of the reviews...if you have been reading some of the later ones and been

like 'what the hell? Why are they calling her James and Prongs?' that's cuz these reviews have been sent from my core group of insanity-linked friends. Ignore the content of them, you'll never understand it. But, 'BerttheToolBox7' is 'Remus Lupin'; 'Theresa Black' is 'Sirius Black'; and the other is my 'darling wife Lily'. They address me as James. But, if you contact them about me, they will deny any knowledge of my existence, so don't harass them for anything.

And one more thing...(I hope you all are actually reading this far)

I would like to send out a very special thanks. There has been one person who has come to my attention that has read and reviewed both of my Fics. She (presuming female, sorry if not) is the only one that I have noticed to have been with me since the beginning. I don't think she knows how much I greatly appreciate it to be able to have someone who truly appreciates your work and shows it by staying with you. It really is great to have a fan like that. I am talking about someone who goes solely by the name of Lotty. Lotty: wherever you are, whoever you are, thank you for reading and reviewing.

Well. Enough with the touchy-feely-sentimental moments. I have so little to do and so much time to do it in. No, scratch that, reverse it.

DISAPPARATES

(mystical, unseen voice)

The Force will be with you...always...


	5. Excruciation August 1 to 17

1**AN:** Hey, readers. Don't really have much to say here but a really big THANK YOU. And there it was.

I would also like to reveal a little...secret...about my writing. Just a helpful hint to keep in mind while reading. If I say that a character is dead, then they are dead. If I don't say the word dead, or any other antonym of the word, then they are not _dead._ Remember that. Might ease the pain of any horrible cliff hangers. And it will help to emphasize things that I have planned in later chapters...Now you're all curious, aren't you? Well, read and review, and you will later find out.

((Ps: I am introducing a new character in this chapter. Vel Pyrite. He is not in the books, but it was originally planned for him to be. He is of JK's creation, I just gave him a first name and a personality.))

DISCLAIMER: (I think that it is in my best interest to post a real one this time.) I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER! CHARACTERS AND ALL CREDIT BELONG SOLELY TO JK ROWLING. Now, please, JKR, MAKE MY THUMB DRIVE COME BACK! I'M SORRY!

Let's hope that works.

Now, for the long awaited: ** Ch. V:**

**Excruciation**

Harry sucked in air through torn and tattered lungs, chest heaving painfully, as the spell was again removed from him for the innumerous time. The wounds that remained from the curse barely faded away, continuing to remain fresh and grotesque. He shook violently from pain and cold, his body covered in a clammy sweat and sickly warm blood. He spiraled in and out of reality, only to be brought back by Voldemort as he was hit, yet again, with the curse.

Harry was utterly delirious. From the continual use of the Artathus, he was no longer in his right mind. But Voldemort had told him sometime before that, unlike the Cruciatus, his spell could not cause you to go literally insane, nor could its effects kill you. If that were not the case, Harry would have been long gone. Even now he could not think straight, unable to comprehend anything the Dark Lord was saying. Maybe if he would stop speaking in that damn Parseltongue, Harry could perhaps partially piece things together.

He had no idea what day it was, or even what time of day it was, nor did he know how long he had been here. He could only guess that it had been at least seven days, because that was how many times the Death Eaters had come to force him awake, and that was the number of body-sized blood stains he was able to count the floor of his cell. One for each night he had been taken there and left guarded by Dementors, completely unconscious. Occasionally, Harry would wish that they would break into his cell and deliver the Kiss that would suck out his soul, just so he wouldn't have to go through any more of this...

Harry's eyes snapped open as the Dark Lord performed the reviving spell upon him, and Harry realized unfortunately that he was not dead. Another shot of the Artathus instantly reminded him of that. As soon as the spell was lifted, he vomited blood onto the floor. Painfully, he hoisted himself onto his hands and knees, still prideful enough to not want to be laying at the feet of Voldemort.

He could only imagine how he fully looked. From what he could see of himself, the entirety of his body appeared mutilated. Gashes, scars, bruises. Skin was scraped raw off his hands, elbows, knees, and chin due to the many times he had been forced to the ground. His clothes were in tatters. His tee-shirt was now a medley of blood and grime, so that the original color was impossible to tell. Harry thought it might have once been grey. He couldn't remember. Actually, he couldn't remember much of anything from before being sent to hell.

His mind swam in a sea of darkness and pain, allowing the words that Voldemort was now speaking to float around, detached. Harry caught only a few phrases of the snakelike hissing, but other than that, he was absorbed in his own thoughts. He looked up at the Dark Lord, only after he heard his name being called repeatedly.

"I asked you a question, Harry, and I expect an answer." Harry's look of confusion clearly told him that he had not heard anything that he had said. Voldemort let out a low breath in frustration.

"This is the last time I will ask you this, Potter, before I hand you over to my Death Eaters. I will then allow them a chance to do some persuading."

"Will you join me, Harry Potter?"

_I'm Harry Potter. The Heir of Gryffindor. 'The Chosen One'. 'The Boy-Who-Lived.' I can't give in…I won't._

"Never."

"Pride and arrogance are not fitting for a fool, Potter." He spat. "If that is what you choose, then you will die a slow and painful death."

_I already am._ He thought.

As he thought this, a door was opened behind him. Through it, came nearly a dozen Death Eaters.

"These, Harry, are the Death Eaters that have been granted the chance to torture you. The opportunity of a lifetime, if I may say." Voldemort had known that Harry would not give in, and had called the Death Eaters there beforehand.

The black-clad mass filed in and formed a silent semicircle around him and Voldemort, no doubt awaiting the order they have been wanting to hear for years.

"Bellatrix," the Dark Lord called. It was the first word that Harry had heard spoken in English in nearly a week, and his ears felt odd without the sound of reverberating hissing filling them. As he said her name, a recognizable figure emerged from the surrounding group, approached her master, and bowed.

"You may go first." This was all that he said to her, and Harry could see that a wide smile was creasing her heavy-lidded eyes behind that mask.

"As for the rest of you, you may leave us. You shall be summoned when your chance arises." The Death Eaters bowed together and departed silently through the door that they had entered in; disappointment was imminent. Bella, on the other hand, was anything but.

Soon it was only the three of them in the room. Voldemort had stepped back, allowing Bella to have free reign upon the weakened body of Harry. Before she said anything, she cast her curse.

"Crucio!" Harry had to admit that the spell was almost a relief compared to the Artathus, but that in no way meant that it was a comfort of any sort. It was an entirely different feeling of pain, not as intense, but still all-consuming. His screams blended with her laughter as his body convulsed on the floor at her feet. She began to taunt him even before the spell was fully lifted.

"So, Potter, how does it feel? What is it like to be an inch away from death?"

"Like hell..." He spat.

"Good." Was her simple reply before casting the Cruciatus upon him once more, truly enjoying the sight of him in torment, her laughter long and loud. The Dark Lord stood silently a few paces away, absorbing the scene.

As she removed the curse, she paced before him. Bella took off her mask to reveal her face, and through the flickering emerald light and his blurred vision, Harry was able to make out a long, jagged scar running the length of her face. He vaguely found himself wondering where it came from.

"Do you how long I have waited for this moment, Harry? Do you know how many times I have dreamed of having you suffering by my wand?" She kicked his side and he was rolled onto his back, sure that she had just cracked one or more of his ribs, and the already difficult breathing process was intensified. Bella bent forward so that her face was inches from his own as he gasped for breath. In her dark eyes, Harry could still see the effects wrought upon her in Azkaban, but at the moment they were hidden beneath a sense of triumph and much-sought revenge.

"I don't want you to become a Death Eater, Potter, because your allegiance would mean nothing. I know you, I know that even if you took the Mark it would not be for the fact that you truly want to serve the Dark Lord. I don't think I could bear to watch someone with my master's brand betray him like that. No, Harry. I don't want you as a Death Eater. I want you dead!"

She jammed the heel of her boot into his stomach, directly below his rib cage as she simultaneously cast another curse at him. She held him down with her foot, so that he could not thrash. Nor could he breathe, for that matter. But the more intense the spell became, the more he convulsed, causing her to press down harder. The sound of his cracking bones was sickeningly audible as another several ribs were shattered. One of the fragmented pieces punctured the skin, tearing straight through his already bruised flesh. A large red stained blossomed on his mangled shirt, blood seeping out of the new wound rapidly. A piece of white skeleton was visible poking through the gushing puncture, and Harry was nearly sick at the sight. As he was under the Cruciatus, all he could do was scream louder than he had been previously, and pray to God that she would stop it soon.

Bella must have noticed the creeping blood puddle and ceased her spell. With a wave of her wand, the broken rib was repaired, and it magically crept back within his chest. But the pain remained.

"You should be grateful that the Dark Lord has commanded that you are not mortally wounded, Potter. Pity. I would have enjoyed watching you die. But maybe my wish is yet to be granted."

"I must admit, though, boy, that merely watching you die would not be enough. I want you to suffer."

With that, she placed upon him another of the Unforgivables, the Imperius. Harry did not have the will or strength to fight it, and allowed Bella to humiliate him under the spell. With his mind wiped blank of all thought, it was the first sense of peace that he had experienced since being brought here; if you could call being tortured and controlled against your will _peace._

Under her charm, Bella pressed him to do many things, and Harry put up little resistance. He didn't care what she did to him, nothing mattered anymore anyway. But now she was asking him to do something and Harry was brought out of the stupor induced by the Imperius in the realization of what she was saying.

'_Hand over the rights to Grimmauld Place. Pass to me the authority to have what is rightfully mine. Tell me I can have it, rid of the Order's effects. Give me the House of Black. Sirius never should have given it to you...'_

Harry heard these words and fought off the spell with his remaining energy, knowing that he could not do what she had commanded. '_I can't give her the house, it belongs to the Order, it was Sirius'...'_

The spell was lifted and Harry realized that he had been screaming at Bellatrix.

"It appears that I have touched a nerve, haven't I, Harry?" Bella then lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "Do you still miss him, Harry? Do you still blame yourself for his death?"

"Shut up." Was all Harry could manage to say through the pain of broken ribs and loss of breath.

"Well, Potter, I see that you _do_. And with good reason. It was your fault that he died."

" It...it wasn't my fault...I went to...to s-save him . . . You killed Sirius." Harry coughed so that he sprayed the floor with more of his blood and saliva.

Bella moved her feet out of the way of his spray, not that they didn't have his blood on them already.

"But if you hadn't believed that he was in danger and gone to his rescue, then he wouldn't have had to come to save you."

"No. Sh-shut up. You k-killed him. It was you...not me..." But Bella was playing on the very weakness Harry had created for himself about that night. He already knew that it had been his fault, but he also knew that it was Bella's more than his.

"I just cast the spell. It was you who put him in front of it." She smiled, creasing her sunken eyes.

"No!" Harry shouted, not wanting to accept this as truth and to take the blame for his godfather's death. "Stop this, Bellatrix..."

This time, Bella did stop the taunting. But she continued to speak, this time with a straighter, more serious tone. "The Imperius is hardest to resist when the one under its charm has an increased level of emotion. It clouds their thinking, makes them more susceptible. Your anger at me will accomplish this. You will do as I say. IMPERIO!"

Harry was hit with the controlling spell, and he tried to fight it off, but found that he couldn't. He just kept thinking of how much he hated Bellatrix for what she had done to Sirius and what she was doing to him now. But Harry still knew that he couldn't give in to her, so she strengthened the spell. Harry fought it for what felt like an eternity, before it finally broke through the shields created as his mental barrier and agreed to what she had been asking. Bellatrix Lestrange was now the heir to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and all its possessions.

And with that accomplished, she left the room, leaving Harry to spiral out of reality and taken to spend another night in his Dementor-guarded cell, having already forgotten what it really was he had just agreed to.

Thus began the first in many of the Death Eater's tortures of Harry Potter. The day after Bella's torturing the next Death Eater was brought in. Harry was genuinely shocked at his identity. Malfoy. _Draco Malfoy._

Harry's school rival tortured him for the satisfaction of revenge alone. Revenge for what Harry had caused to happen to his father, for what he and his mother were doing now in his stead, and for the many times Harry and his friends had humiliated, out-smarted, and been a step-up on him through everything. Malfoy also wanted to get back at Harry for cursing him with the Sectumsempra curse.

Draco used the Half-Blood Prince's spell, saying that he wanted Harry to have the opportunity to 'know what it feels like'. A large gash opened on his heaving chest and spewed heavy amounts of crimson blood, constricting his lungs as he screamed. But unlike the Bella, Draco did not find this as enjoyable. He was not laughing, but rather had a grim look on his face. He sent the spell at Harry once more, deeply gorging his shoulder, before he turned and walked out of the room. He did not say a word.

Voldemort approached Harry and waved his wand, allowing the wounds to heal over, just as Bellatrix had done. But once again the pain remained. Harry thought that he would be sent back to his cell, but he was wrong. The door was again opened and another black-robed figure stepped in.

This third torturer Voldemort appeared to show great interest in. The tormentor kept his mask on and his identity hidden, as he poured the most vile and grievous potions ever concocted down Harry's throat. Harry couldn't even describe the varied effects, except that when the seeped into his blood they felt like liquid fire, flowing ice, and corrosive acid all at once, destroying him from the inside-out. The results of each were inconceivable, and all were simultaneous. Needless to say, it did not take Harry long to succumb to their effects and fall back within his common comatose state. It was his shortest day yet, but that meant nothing on the level of pain. He was thrown back into his cell for the rest of the day and night, then revived and brought back into the room for the next Death Eater to have his way with.

The door was opened for the fourth time and a new Death Eater stepped in, one Harry was sure that he had never seen before. The first thing that Harry noticed was that he wore a pair of white, silk gloves, which stood out against the standard black of his robes. In one of those gloved hands, he carried a tattered, bloodstained briefcase. It had the appearance that it was used quite often; Harry didn't think he wanted to know what it carried.

This Death Eater had an air of cool confidence about him, and somehow managed to retain his pride even as he knelt in servitude before Voldemort. Power was something that he just emanated, and Harry knew that this was a man to be feared.

"This, Harry, is Vel Pyrite." He spoke as if Harry could actually understand what he was saying. "You have not yet before had the pleasure of meeting. He, like the others before him, is here to _persuade _you. But unlike the others, Pyrite will not be using his wand. He has a very..._unique_ way of torture..."

Harry had caught only the last few words. _Unique?_ Voldemort gave a cold smile at his obvious dawning look of recognition. Harry felt his stomach sink in pure dread and apprehension. _What the hell did that mean?_

Voldemort stepped aside and allowed Pyrite to approach Harry, leather briefcase in hand. Harry was now certain that it was indeed covered in blood. He vaguely wondered how many others had experienced the horrors of whatever was held within.

The Death Eater knelt on the floor beside Harry, completely different than he had before the Dark Lord. Before Voldemort, it was as an apprentice before a master. Before Harry, it was as a craftsman before his work.

With his white silk-covered hands, he snapped open the locks on the case, two soft clicks mixing in with the sound of Harry's fearful, labored breathing. The Death Eater's dark copper eyes gleamed in the room's emerald lighting as he scanned the contents of his case. Harry had barely caught sight of the glint of rusted metal, before Vel Pyrite had set silently and vigorously to his morbid work.

Harry had been right to fear the contents of that briefcase. Astonishingly, the contents of that case could deliver pain almost equivalent to that of the Artathus Curse of Voldemort's own design. The instruments inside appeared at first glance to be standard Muggle items, but each had their own darkly grotesque magical twist. It was nearly impossible to believe that things that looked to be nothing more than a letter opener, a cigarette lighter, or even dental floss could be warped into becoming some of the most highly efficient torture tools ever created, each with their own magically designed horrific purpose. But, unlike the Artathus, the various wounds that they created did not fade away.

By the end of their session, Pyrite's gloves were drenched in Harry's blood, and Harry was carried away to his cell, fighting not to succumb to the urges of insanity and death.

For several more days, this continued. Death Eater after Death Eater relished the opportunity to cause as much damage and inflict as much pain as they possibly could upon _The-Boy-Who-Lived._ Some spent hours torturing him on their own, while others acted in groups or pairs, striking together. Each used their own combination of spells and curses, and each one was as bad as the next, and if not, worse. Harry found himself praying for someone to go back to using the Cruciatus.

Each night that Harry's unconscious formed was dragged back to his Dementor-guarded cell, in the back of his mind he was thinking how much of a relief it would be if that night was the one when they broke the barrier and took out his soul, or that night would be the one that he would just decide to let go, and finally fade away into the unknown void of death.

But every morning he would wake up again, with a boot to the chest and a hand gripping his clotted and matted hair. And as the Death Eaters came to retrieve him that morning, he was able to count 15 stains on the floor of his cell through glazed and misted eyes. Fifteen body-sized blood stains: one for each of the nights his bleeding body had been ruthlessly thrown within. Harry found himself wondering how he had not yet died of loss of the life-sustaining liquid.

As he was brought through the door of the circular room, Harry was almost grateful to see that Voldemort was standing alone. The Death Eater ruthlessly pushed him forward, and he stumbled to his knees in a crude bow before the Dark Lord.

Voldemort was smiling. "After a second week of persuasion, Harry, you still remain with me. You have not yet given in. I must expect that I did not expect even you to be this stubborn. But what of your decision? Have you been at all persuaded? Will you join me and my Death Eaters; or have you decided that to die would be a better option?"

Harry partially attempted a response, but all that came out was a barely audible, hoarse grunt. His jaw had been broken sometime during the week. He remembered when it happened, because after being slammed to the floor for the innumerous time, he had heard a sharp crack and his head was filled with an intense pain as his mouth filled with blood. He knew that could only mean one thing. But a broken jaw still could not prevent him from screaming in agony as he was continually tortured.

Voldemort seemed to understand. He waved his wand, and Harry braced for the Artathus. But he was astonished when he understood that his body was not being further wracked in pain, but rather that his jaw had been repaired. It was an odd, warm sensation as the bones in his mouth realigned and fell back into place. But when it was fixed, Harry knew that it was not done to spare him discomfort, but for the sole benefit of him being able to answer the Dark Lord's questioning.

"What shall it be, boy?"

"N-never w-will I fall...under y-your command..." He looked into the scarlet eyes above him from his kneeling position on the floor. But what Harry would not admit was the fact that he was truly uncertain about what he should do now. He could not allow the fulfillment of either of the options presented to him, so Harry had to think of something else, anything to pacify his oppressor.

As Voldemort raised his wand to cast the curse, Harry's timid voice halted his action.

"...Wait...V-Voldemort, _please_...Isn't there an-anything else...that I c-could do...?"

The Dark Lord lowered his wand, smiling. "Such as what, Harry?"

Harry's warped brain created things fast. "I...I could get...information...from inside the O-Order...Sn-Snape's not th-there anymore...You...you need someone..." Harry hated himself for considering this, but there were ways out of it and it was better than anything else.

"Harry, are you saying that you are willing to betray your friends in such a way?"

"Nothing c-could betray them m-more..." He coughed and spat out a good quantity of blood. "...then wh-what you are asking m-me to do."

"Nothing, Harry? I must say I disagree. I can think of quite a few things..."

As Voldemort said this, the door was opened. Harry was realizing that nothing good ever came from beyond that door. But when he saw whom it was, Harry would rather have it of been more Death Eaters.

"Please, Percy...What are you doing? Stop this, it isn't funny. We need to get back to the wedding. Where are we?"

It was Ginny.

As she was pushed into the room, she saw the other two occupants in the center. She stood frozen, unable to move for fear and shock, mouth attempting to form words that would not come.

Harry was equally stunned. _No...She can't be here...Not Ginny..._

"H-Harry?" Ginny screamed as she recognized the battered body before her.

Harry was slumped on the floor, staring at the two redheads whose entrance had stopped his heart. Ginny's eyes darted between him and the Dark Lord, wide and registering her astonishment clearly. But Percy showed no fear. He walked directly up to the Dark Lord..._and_ _bowed..._

"As you have commanded, my master..." He said from one knee, head lowered in reverence.

_Master? _Harry's head reeled. _Percy Weasley was a Death Eater!_

"Rise, servant. You have done well and will be commended. Now, leave us."

Percy stood up, hesitantly. "She will not be k-killed my Lord..?"

"What happens to her now is not of your concern. _Leave us._"

He nodded regretfully and turned to leave with a final bow. He averted his head from his sister as he passed, but she grabbed his arm.

"Percy . . . tell me this isn't happening. You wouldn't do something like this..."

He did not face her, and twisted his arm out of her grasp. He walked out the door without looking back.

"Percy...what have you done?" Ginny said as she fell to her knees, just as the stone door slid shut. It was just enough time to see her brother stop and turn around with an expressionless face.

Ginny knelt on the stone floor, ten feet from Harry, tears of fear falling silently down her face. She was wearing a pale gold dress that fell around her, and Harry realized that today must have been Bill and Fleur's wedding. A gold tiara was perched crookedly on the top of her flaming red hair.

Voldemort walked directly before her and began talking in Parseltongue. He was telling Harry to translate for him.

"..._I'm sorry, Ginny...I'm s-sorry_...He says th-that...he says that either the D-Death Eaters torture you...or..._oh God, no.._.or I do...He says you h-have to choose..."

Harry stammered out, praying to God to be granted with any other options. He couldn't torture Ginny...he just couldn't. But there was no way in hell he would ever allow the Death Eaters to either...

Ginny stared back at him with wide eyes, unsure of what she could say. They knelt on the floor, only mere feet apart. Between them, stood Voldemort. He was looking at Ginny in a peculiar way, as if he had noticed something and was now trying to figure out what it meant. But in a moment his face was expressionless as ever, and Harry thought that the look before could have even been a trick of the light, or obscured because he was delusional and also had no glasses.

The Dark Lord quickly strode over to the door through which Percy had just left. Or, was it the same door? It didn't appear to be in the same place. Once again, Harry wasn't sure he was even able to trust his own sight.

"I will give you these next few moments to discuss what you will do." he hissed, and left the room, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. As soon as the door slid closed behind him, Ginny jumped to her feet and ran over to Harry. She cried as she wrapped her arms around his battered body, covering her dress in his scarlet blood.

"Harry, oh thank God, Harry..._You're alive_...Everyone was so sure...so sure that you were already dead..." she sobbed, her tears somehow sliding down his face. Harry didn't move; he didn't even want to think about ever leaving the warmth of her embrace. He ignored the sharp, stinging pains that were caused by the weight of her body pressing against his many wounds. He could think of nothing to say; he could think of nothing to do. All he wanted right now was to go back home...

As if reading his mind, Ginny stood up, attempting to lift him with her. But with so many injuries and wounds, including clear fractures in the bones of his legs, as well as many others, Harry could not stand. From his position on the floor, he pulled Ginny back down to her knees.

"Harry, what are you doing? We have to get out of here, we need to get you back...This is our chance..." She tried again to raise him to his feet.

Harry could only shake his head.

"Harry, _please_...help me. Get up, Harry, you need to get up..." she pleaded.

"Ginny...we can't escape..." he rasped.

"Of course we can! There has to be a way out..."

He shook his head again. "Th-there is no way out...not unless..."

"Not unless what?"

"V-Voldemort...he gave me two choices..."

"What are they? Harry, what are the choices?" Fear was clear in her voice. She knew that neither of them would bring any good news.

"He said I could either d-die..."

"...Or?" she asked slowly, afraid to have what she was fearing confirmed.

"Or I could...t-take the Dark Mark..."

"Harry..._No..._You can't..." She was appalled that such a thing could even be considered. "What are you going to do?"

"I...I don't know, Gin..." Harry was overtaken by a painful coughing, in which he had to turn away from Ginny to ensure that he did not shower her in any more of his blood. He clutched at his chest, feeling the nubs that were surely broken ribs, dangerously close to piercing the skin. That had happened twice already, both times Voldemort had waved his wand and mended the bones to guarantee that his captive did not die of blood loss. Several times he had healed some of Harry's more grievous wounds, but he never did anything to stop the pain. He wanted to keep him alive and in as much torment as was physically possible, even when aided by magic.

Harry lay on his back on the crimson-smeared floor, eyes lolling within his head. Ginny was still beside him.

"What has he done to you?" She whispered in despair.

Harry ignored her question, and after a minute of labored breathing, finally spoke again. "Listen, G-Ginny...when he comes back...you'll have to give him an answer...he said you had to ch-choose..."

"No...no, there has to be another way..."

"There is no other way!"

When Ginny looked at Harry's mangled form, she immediately felt guilty that she had wanted to forgo any amount of discomfort to herself. _How could I even think like that after all he must have been through? _

She gave a ragged sigh. "What should I do?"

Before Harry could give any answer, the door was opened again and Voldemort came back into the room.

"You have been given more than enough time. Your decision, girl. Now."

Harry did not need to translate, for he spoke without Parseltongue.

Harry honestly did not know which was the better option. If she was given to the Death Eaters, she would be tortured with no mercy, and driven to insanity. But if he was forced to do it...he could at least save her some pain and anguish. And she would know that he was not doing it to harm her. But Harry did not think that he had the courage to torture Ginny Weasley.

Ginny spoke her answer without fear. "I want Harry to do it."

He felt his stomach clench tightly at her words. _She had chosen him. He had to do it. What if he refused?_

Voldemort smiled and stepped towards Harry's prone form. From the pocket of his robes, he procured a wand. Harry was sure that he was going to curse him, and awaited the pain. But he soon realized instead that the wand was being offered to him. He hesitantly took it, and upon examination, noticed that it was his own wand. Harry knew that this is what Voldemort had left the room for

"Yes, Potter, that is the same wand that I took from you and snapped on the day you arrived here. Of course, a few _moderations _have been made; moderations that are irreversible. With this wand, you will only ever be able to perform spells that can in no way harm myself of my followers. You can also now perform Unforgivables, even if you don't truly want to do them. We are going to test this now..."

Harry gripped his wand, now knowing that he was holding a weapon, a means of escape. But he also knew that in his wasted state, he could never prove any match for the full power of the Dark Lord. Harry tried nothing.

For the longest time he stared down at his wand, debating what he should do. Should he cast it aside and allow Voldemort to throw Ginny to the Death Eaters, or should he, himself, turn his wand upon her to save her from their tortures? With a look from Ginny, he knew what he had to do. He cast his spell.

It came far easier than he ever could have imagined, and as Voldemort had said, he didn't even need to mean it for it to work. The Cruciatus curse flew from his wand and hit Ginny, instantaneously throwing her into violent spasms of pain and anguish as she screamed and cried out against it.

Harry took it off immediately after he realized what he had just done. Ginny sat up, back on her knees. The curse had only been on her for a second, but Harry saw that Ginny was visibly shaken. The color had drained from her face, and she looked nauseous. Harry realized that it was the first time that she had ever been put through the torture spell's horrors, and it had been at his hand. Harry looked down at his wand and threw it away. It was no longer a means of escape: it was a torture device.

Ginny would not meet Harry's eyes, and he felt his own brim with tears. He had been through so much, so much pain and torture, that when Ginny had told him to cast the spell on her he had done it only to save her from what he had been through. But now he knew he should have just given her to the Death Eaters, because if he ever lived through this, it would be with the burden of knowing he had tortured the girl he loved.

At the moment that Ginny looked up to face him, Voldemort stepped between. Harry knew that he would say that the spell had not been long enough, and that he had to do it again. But he was wrong. Instead, Voldemort had upon his face a vile grin, and when he spoke it was again in Parseltongue.

"I must admit Harry that I did not think you had the will within you to go through with what you just did, and I commend you." Being commended for his actions by the Dark Lord did not in any way help how he was feeling. "It is this kind of determination that I desire beside me, Potter. You have extended your life. If you had not cast the spell upon her, I would have killed you both, for you would have been useless to me."

"You have three days to decide, Potter, before I overturn the privilege of your wasted life. If I do not have your decision by then, you will be killed." The look in his crimson sent chills through Harry's shot nerves.

"Wh-what about G-Ginny..?"

"Well that's quite simple. You die: she dies. You join me: she lives. But in the mean time, I will have Pyrite and the other Death Eaters..._keep her company_."

No sooner had he said it, half a dozen Death Eaters entered the room, and with a nod from Voldemort, began dragging Ginny towards the door. She kicked and screamed and tried to twist away. She didn't know what Voldemort had just said, but she knew that it wasn't good.

"No! Please, don't! Harry! Help!" Her screams pierced him but there was nothing he could do for her. Harry closed his emerald eyes and looked away, knowing that it was he who condemned her to this fate. He heard the heavy door slide shut against the stone, muffling her pleas as she was taken down the hall.

"Three days, Harry. ARTAITHUM!"

Those three days were the worst that he had spent there at the Serpent's Lair. For 72 hours straight, Voldemort applied the Artathus curse to him, reviving him when necessary. He was not taken to his cell, and was not allowed to remain unconscious for long. Occasionally, the Dark Lord would use other torture spells, many the same as what the Death Eaters had used, and many that were much worse. By the end of the three days, Harry was better off dead. The only thing keeping him alive was knowing that Ginny's fate was tied to his own.

Voldemort smiled evilly when Pyrite brought in the unconscious and beaten form of Ginny Weasley. Unceremoniously, he threw her down, so she lay crumpled only mere feet from Harry. Pyrite looked down at her much as an artist would at his own painting: enjoying his work. Voldemort dismissed him, and he backed out of the room in a bow.

Harry was unable to tear his eyes away from the limp body of the girl before him. His mind now only worked by comprehending single thoughts, and that thought was that this was his fault.

The room was silent for an eternity, before finally the Dark Lord spoke.

"Do you _love_ her, Harry?" Voldemort questioned, mockingly.

Harry's clouded and battered mind swam with responses. He knew he couldn't tell him, because he would only further use her. But he was using her now, so he already knew. Harry didn't want to answer, and instead attempted to put up an Occlumens shield, to prevent the Dark Lord from knowing the truth, but all that he accomplished was a weak haze before his eyes and an intenser headache than he already had.

Voldemort laughed. "Do you believe that you are a match for the Legilimency of Lord Voldemort? You fool, Potter. I can see how you truly feel for her. But I want you to tell me. I want to hear you say it."

"N-no." Was all he could manage, his throat dry and parched, lips cracked and bleeding.

"No? What do you mean 'no'? I gave you an order, and you will obey it. Tell me how you feel for her!"

Harry barely shook his head, but it was enough for Voldemort to notice.

"Artaithum!" He bellowed, and watched as the silvery-green serpent shot into the chest of the boy before him. If Harry would not tell him voluntarily, then he would have to make him. He left the curse on for another 30 seconds, before he lifted it.

"Now, Harry. Perhaps you would like to try this again?"

Harry coughed violently and painfully adjusted his position on the ground. "I...I

l-love her..." His voice was a hoarse whisper.

Voldemort smiled evilly again. "I'm sorry, Harry. I couldn't hear you. What was that?"

"I l-love her..." he said, trying to sound a bit stronger.

"Who?" Voldemort pressed in his most sickly voice.

"G-Ginny Weasley..." Harry choked out, fully vexed at the immaturity and ridicule he was being put through. "I...I love Ginny Weasley..."

Voldemort straightened up and inhaled deeply through his slit-like nostrils.

"Love, Harry, is a powerful thing." He began. "It has corrupted man to do foolish things; things they would never else dream of doing. It blinds them; it deceives them. It leads them to believe and rely on things that do not truly exist. It is what has killed your parents, your godfather, Dumbledore...and it is what will kill you."

"N-no...s-saved me...D-Dumbledore said...my gr-greatest thing...you'll die...you c-can't love..."

Voldemort actually took a moment to laugh at the naivety.

"No, Harry. You're wrong. Your love isn't what has saved you: it's others love. Your mother loved you, so she died to protect you. Black loved you, so he died trying to rescue you. Dumbledore died because he loved all and tried to give them a second chance. Show me once when a person's love has ever saved themselves...No. Love is what kills them. Love is what they die for. It is, by far, the greatest weakness of them all. Your love can never save you."

Harry sat, silent. He could think of nothing that could dispute what Voldemort was saying.

"Do not bother to try and think of an explanation, for there is only one: Dumbledore was _wrong_, Harry. Your love will get you nowhere except closer to death."

"No...n-no...you're wr-wrong..." Harry stammered.

"Am I, Harry?" Voldemort said with a glint in his eye. "I have loved no one, I have never allowed anyone to get in my way like that, and I am the most powerful wizard to have ever lived! That is why I was always more powerful than Dumbledore. He was held back by his care and trust in others, but I have never had such hindrances.

"Dumbledore is dead because he was too stubborn to admit that Severus Snape could have, quite possibly, not been as trustworthy as he had seemed. But Dumbledore put all faith in that man, and then Snape killed him. If Dumbledore had not made himself so susceptible to love then he would have realized that Snape was working under my orders the entire time.

"Love will kill you, Potter. Look at yourself. It is the reason you are on the brink of death. You won't die because you want to be with and protect your loved ones, and yet you won't take my Mark because you don't want to betray them. Your love for them has you caught in the middle, battling every second because you can't decide which would hurt them more. But think, boy. _You and Ginny are the only ones getting hurt_. If you really loved her, then you would make your decision to stop her anguish, even if it will later cause her more.

"Learn to put your love aside, Harry. Learn that without your care for your friends holding you back you could become so much more!"

He paused for a moment to sneer. "But, no. Harry Potter would never do anything to put his friends in danger. He would rather take all the pain for them. This is the attachment that will corrupt and destroy you, Potter, as it is doing now.

"I know of the weakness you have for your friends, Harry, and that is why Ginny is here. I know you would do _anything_ to save her." Voldemort walked over to her and drew his wand. Harry tensed in apprehension. Voldemort noticed.

"See, boy? I don't even have to do anything to her for you to feel fear. But what would it be like if I did _this..._Artaithum!"

Voldemort bellowed the curse and Harry let in a sharp intake of breath. His eyes snapped open from their hazy state at the sound of Ginny's blood-curdling screams as Voldemort took the pleasure of using his spell on her. She had been awakened from her unconscious state and was now thrashing madly as her flesh was torn apart by the horrors of the spell and began spewing large amounts of crimson blood.

"V-Voldemort! St-stop it! STOP! PLEASE!" Harry was pleading as he watched the girl he loved be tortured before him, because of him. He knew he was doing exactly what Voldemort had wanted, but he didn't care. He didn't care if every word he had said was right, he couldn't let him hurt Ginny anymore.

At the sound of Harry's pleading, Voldemort only intensified the curse. A thicker, longer stream of white light shot into her and she screamed even louder than before, as more gashes appeared and more blood began to flow.

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry was screaming, tears streaming down his bruised and bloodied face. "Please! End it! Stop the c-curse! Pl-please!"

The Dark Lord seemed to take no notice of him. "I wonder, Harry, how long it would take for her to be killed by pain and fear alone?"

"NO! PL-PLEASE! END THE SPELL! YOU'RE G-GOING TO K-KILL HER! STOP!" Harry was in hysterics. If he didn't do something, Voldemort would continue the spell until she was dead. Harry knew there was only one thing that would make him stop.

"I'LL T-TAKE IT!" Harry screamed through his sobs. "I WILL TAKE THE DARK MARK!"

No sooner than this was said was the curse ceased. Ginny's screams stopped as she passed out immediately, and Voldemort turned to look triumphantly at Harry. There was a gleam in his scarlet eyes that Harry had never seen before, and hoped he would never have to see again. Harry looked away and clenched shut his own eyes shut, unable to take upon him the full verity of what he had just agreed to do.

To save his friends, Harry Potter was going to become a Death Eater.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**AN:** Sorry for the abrupt ending here, but I thought it would make it more...dramatic. And, I hate to say it, but Chapter VI isn't going to be much help either. It's going to be really short, like, one scene short. So, I'm sorry. But that's the way it has to be. And I daresay the length of this chapter will make up for it. Heh. School has started, and I have finally gotten a job (I am now an official Subway Sandwich Artist! Woohoo!) But, other than that, I have no real life beside fanfiction so I promise that I will REALLY REALLY try to get the chapters out as fast as I can. Actually...I was hoping to follow the timeline that this fic is. Post on the same day as it is in the story. It would be interesting to follow along with, it'd be almost like actual time except 9 years in the past of a fictitious world. LOL. Its like 24. You follow Jack Bauer along through his entire day and really bad and exciting stuff happens and its in real time so its makes it even cooler. Same principle, hope it works. Well, it would be cool to do, but now I'm a little too far behind schedule. Hopefully, I can bring it back. Just pretend in your mind that it's the 12th of August...

Chapter VI should be up REALLY SOON. In the story, it happens on the next day, so I don't want to space them out too far. I promise I'll type really fast.

May the Force be with you.

(Nods head and Disapparates)

(Pops back)

I just realized that I'm not old enough to have my Apparating license and that I've been doing this illegally the entire time. Oh well, I seem to have been doing fine with it, so, no worries then.

(Disapparates again)

((Leaves her right arm behind))

(Pops back again.)

AH! My arm! It's gone! Ah! I'm Anakin Skywalker! I just got my arm chopped off! Bloody hell that hurts! Rather lose it with a lightsaber next time...Oh well...nothing a little duct tape can't fix, right? ((Grabs arm and is about to leave))

You know? I think I'm just going to take the door, like everyone else.

The Force will be with you...

(Nods head and walks out door)

((walks back in))

Apparently, that's a closet...and the only door in the room...I'm trapped!

I know! If all of you keep sending lots and lots of reviews, then the room won't be able to hold them and it'll explode and I'll be free! Start typing!

(Goes to corner to sit)

NO! The room is a circle: there are no corners! TYPE YOUR REVIEWS FASTER!

(Uses duct tape over mouth so you can all stop reading and get back to your lives)

((mumbles something inaudible about the Force...)


	6. Initiation August 17

1**AN:** Not going to do a full AN this time. Just a simple thanks for reading and reviewing.

And I lied, apparently it wasn't just two days for the update. I apologize...I got a little preoccupied...

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...But after this chapter, the Dark Lord will...Sorry JKR...

**Chapter VI: **

**Initiation**

Harry lay on his back, blankly staring up at the cracked, stone ceiling. For the first time in weeks, he was conscious and he was alone. In the room where hell had been constantly delivered to him, he laid, his addled mind clouded and swarming with everything that had happened.

His body was proof enough as to the torment he had been through. Malnourished frame, shattered bones, tattered, lacerated, bruised, and bloodied flesh. Anyone who could see him now would assume him to be the victim of a grotesque and horrific murder, his motionless form lying within its own life-sustaining liquid. All was true; expect that he was _not _dead. But he was as close to it as anyone could possibly come and still be deemed alive.

What would the Order's reaction be, once they received his mangled body? Surely they had assumed long ago that he had been killed, and that there was no chance of his survival. Would they even be able to recognize him, beneath the grime and gore? Would they even want him back after he did what was soon coming?

Because after all that he had gone through; all the pain, the suffering; as close as he had been brought to death on multiple occasions; as close as he was now; it wasn't over. There was no mercy for him, nor relief, for the worse, by far, was yet to come.

Everything that had been dealt to him for these last two weeks had been for nothing, because in the end, he had given in. Whilst everything was inflicted upon him, he had refused to have his resolve be broken. So instead, his body had been beaten, battered, and crushed. Through that, he had held firm. He didn't break. But in the end...but in the end it didn't matter, because he had given in anyway. Two weeks of torture had taken their toll, and Harry fell to the whim of Voldemort.

It was only moments now before the door was opened for a final time, and the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters ushered in. When that time came, it would be for the ceremony that would forever alter Harry's life. This was the result of the necessity of the continuing of his life.

His mind was so warped that he didn't even comprehend the immense pain anymore. He knew it was there, he knew he was wholly consumed by its presence and knew the restrictions that it held him to. But it was too intense to even be described, so much to encompass that it seemed to be nonexistent, so that he was able to lay there and pretend that every fiber of his being was not shredded and aflame. The pain was so great that he was numb to it.

But he hadn't agreed to do this because he couldn't take the pain. He had surrendered due only to the fact that if this had went on any longer, he would have been killed. And if Harry died, then Voldemort would have won the war. He would have become unstoppable, because Harry was the only one with the ability to defeat him. The entirety of the world would be enslaved to the mastery of the Dark Lord, for his reign would be irrefutably eternal and all-encompassing. All deaths after his rise to power would be just as much Harry's fault as the one who cast the spell that killed them, for it is Harry's destiny to ensure that future never comes to be. If he was killed here, at the Serpent's Lair, from the torture inflicted upon because of the stubbornness he exhibited, then he would bring with him to his grave the fate of the world.

And yet this is not what had been the deciding factor in his decision. What had really thrown him into the reality and gravity of the situation was the pleading screams of torment issuing from Ginny's mouth as the Artathus was used upon her, and the threat of her immediate death. If, at that point, Harry had refused Voldemort's proposal again, Ginny would have been killed, and he would have been in full power to prevent it.

As soon as Harry had agreed to side with Voldemort, the curse had been lifted from Ginny, and she was taken from the room. He didn't know to where, nor did he know what was happening to her. He just prayed that she would be alright. Once she was gone, Voldemort said something to him in Parseltongue. Harry hadn't even cared to listen to what was said. The Dark Lord then left the room, leaving Harry to be in the state that he was in now. He had just lain upon the stone, unmoving, thinking, staring, merely existing. It might have been hours now since he was left, he didn't know. But he knew that when Voldemort returned that with him would be his followers, and it would then be Harry's turn to become one of them.

Harry allowed his eye to close. _Eye,_ because one of them had already been shut due to the fact that it had been swollen and crusted over with dried blood. His other emerald orb, which had long since lost its general lustrous glint, slowly closed, and he vaguely wondered what sight would greet him when it was next opened.

He was given his answer in what felt like seconds. His eye had snapped open to view the skull-like face of the Dark Lord hovering inches above his own. Once Harry was awakened, Voldemort brought his hand before the boy's face, and as if there was an invisible sting attached to it, Harry was pulled off the ground. He winced at the sudden onrush of pain that it brought and the feeling of whatever blood was left within him draining from his head, causing him to feel nauseous and faint. Voldemort forced him into an upright, bowing position before releasing him from his magic, at which point Harry collapsed down upon himself, unable to support the weight of his own body. His forehead rested upon his knee, his stomach across his thigh.

"Get up," Voldemort hissed. Harry attempted to stir, but could not bring himself to move. Voldemort would not settle for this.

"I said _get up!_" He commanded, and used his magic once again to lift the limp boy into position. Once Harry's back was straightened so that he sat upright, Voldemort released him from the spell again, but this time some limited remnants of magic caused Harry to remain this way, instead of once again slumping over. Looking around the room for the first time since Voldemort's entrance, Harry realized that several dozen Death Eaters lined the walls of the room, appearing to be nothing more than green-tinted shadows with glowing eyes.

"In order for this to work, Harry, you must show the proper amount of reverence and respect." He addressed him without the serpentine language, making it clearer for Harry's befuddled mind to comprehend, and so that the surrounding Death Eaters could understand what was being said as well. "You must bow to your master."

_Master._ He felt sick at the word, realizing for the first time that from this moment on that would be what the Dark Lord was known as to him..._His master..._ The Death Eaters in the room seemed to send out a simultaneous shiver of anticipation, and slight murmurings were heard.

Harry refused to bow his head, refused to give the appearance of the willingness to subject himself to this. He refused to break eye contact: dull emerald locked with gleaming scarlet.

"Let us then begin the ceremony." Voldemort moved forward and knelt besides Harry's magically supported, beaten body. "Extend to me your left arm."

With a great effort, Harry hesitantly stretched out a shaking arm, and Voldemort grasped it with long, white fingers and drew it in closer, turning it over so that the underside faced upwards. He pulled out his yew wand.

"I am sure, Harry, that you are familiar with the terms and conditions of the Unbreakable Vow?"

_The Unbreakable Vow?_ That meant that if he did not stick to what he was to soon promise, then he would be killed. Either option in this situation led him to his death. His intensified look of fear must have given his answer.

"I see that you are." He gave a small, cold smile. "You understand then, Harry, that once this is completed, there is no escape from it, no turning back. You will be a Death Eater and it will be imperative to your own life that you adhere to all that I command of you."

Harry neither said nor did anything.

"This is your final chance to accept an immediate, painless death, for if you attempt to back away during the Vow, you will be killed. Is this your choice?"

At this point, there was no way Harry could refuse. There was point in resisting it anymore: this is what had to be done. This is the price that he had to pay in order to ensure the safety of his friends, the Order, and the entirety of the Wizarding population.

He found himself praying that they would understand, that everyone would accept what he did as the only way out. He hoped they would know how much he had gone through for them, to keep them all safe. He wanted to make sure that they knew that this wasn't his choice, that this isn't what he wanted to happen.

But a part of him was screaming that he could never go back to them after this. This: the ultimate betrayal. He would never again be trusted, never again be able to look any of them in the eye and expect them to look back at him without a look of fear and doubt. He was their savior, the chosen one, and he was about to decide to side against them and join the enemy.

No. That's not what he was doing. This was only being done_ for them_. He would never go against them. This was the only way that they would be safe. But still, some might never see it this way. All they would see is the skull-and-snake brand on his inner arm.

Then maybe after this he really could never return to them. If they wouldn't accept him back after he had made the ultimate sacrifice for them, then, quite possibly, he might not be allowed back at all.

He hated the traitorous thoughts that ran through his mind, but yet he couldn't help but think them anyway. Maybe...it _wouldn't_ be so bad to side with Voldemort. He had to do it anyway, it would be better for him if he accepted it openly, instead of feeling like he had betrayed everyone. Maybe he was on the wrong side of this war. The Order's forces could never compare to that of the Dark Lord. _And_ they had lost their leader, Albus Dumbledore, the only one that Voldemort had ever feared. They stood no chance of defeating the dark armies. Why would Harry want to fight for the losing side? If he didn't take the Mark now, he would die. If he didn't follow Voldemort's orders, he would die. If he went against them in the final battle, he, and the Order, would die. This could be avoided though if he forsook his friends, friends that would never be able to understand what he had gone through anyway. Friends that were going to die in the war, just like him unless he took the opportunity presented to him now...

_What was he thinking!? _Had he truly just thought about purposely betraying the entire Order of the Phoenix? His mind was confused, warped by the torment he had gone through and the weight of the decision upon him now.

But with Voldemort he wouldn't be held back and oppressed from reaching his potential power...Eventually, he could even become stronger than the Dark Lord himself and defeat him. And after that...after that, _he_ would have the ability to be in control. He wouldn't have to be concerned with his loyalties, but with the loyalties of others. He would be able to make things better, make things work. There would be no fear in the world, he could ensure that. Things would be made right. But to do this, he had to make the decision right now to turn his back upon the Order of the Phoenix, upon everyone that he had ever loved and loved him, and to pledge himself over to the will of the Dark Lord. But…could he really do that?

"Potter! Your answer." Voldemort snapped, forcing him to make his decision now.

"I..." He began uncertainly. "I will b-become a Death Eater..."

The cheer that went up through the crowd around them was among the loudest Harry had ever heard. He looked down at the floor in shame, unable to bear the sight of the wide, spreading grin on the face of the Dark Lord...on the face of his _master..._

"Then it is time." Voldemort said, as he pressed the tip of his wand upon the scarred flesh of Harry's inner left arm. His scar seared in an unbelievable pain, and he stared through blurred eyes at the spot on his arm where the yew wood indented his bruised skin, knowing it would be the last time it was without the Dark Mark. Instantly, the Death Eaters were silenced, the air in the room turning thick and apprehensive for these final, decisive moments.

Voldemort then began the initiation ceremony. He did it through a wide, brimming smile, that seemed to distort the features of his face, and brought to his eyes a shimmer of the utmost triumphant evil.

"Do you, Harry Potter, swear to me your eternal allegiance and devotion?"

"I..._I do..." _His voice wavered as it was said. He knew that now, there was no turning back. In only a few more words, his soul, his entire being, would belong to the darkest creature to ever live.

As he pledged his commitment, a glowing green coil snaked out of the tip of the wand, appearing to be made of the same flames that lit the candelabras on the walls. The tongue of flame twisted, and wrapped itself around Voldemort's hand and Harry's arm, binding them.

"And do you agree that you will never falter at my commands, that you will carry them out fully and without any hesitation whatsoever, believing that what you are doing is for the good and promotion of this world?"

"..._I do..." _Another emerald wire emerged and entwined itself about them.

"Lastly. Do you swear unto me that never will you betray me or your fellow Death Eater's, and that you will remain faithful to the noble cause set out by the great Salazar Slytherin himself?"

This was the final, contracting moment. The moment when Harry Potter, the_ Chosen One, _the_ Heir of Gryffindor, _made the concluding pledge to be a follower of the Dark Lord Voldemort. There was no turning back from it.

He was unable to at first bring himself to make this last commitment. "I..." he began with hesitancy, but then finished with resolve. "_I do."_

The third essence of green fire wisped out of the wand and encircled itself around the other two. Harry did not remove his eyes from it, not wanting to even imagine what the face of Voldemort must look like. The Death Eaters seemed to be collectively holding their breaths.

"_Morsmordre."_ The spell was almost whispered, but the sound of triumph was not lost in it.

The green coils that had wrapped themselves around Harry's arm began to change. They hovered a few inches above and took the shape of the Dark Mark. Slowly it lowered, and attached itself to the bruised and battered flesh. It disappeared as it was absorbed into it. Harry had watched in transfixed horror. The Death Eater's silence was no more, as they burst into raucous jests, cheers, and applause.

Voldemort stood, pulling Harry up effortlessly by a spindly grip on the boy's frail wrist. Harry's arm was thrust into the air so that all could see. The Dark Lord raised his hand in a call for silence, and the chanting died down.

"Harry Potter...is now...a DEATH EATER!"

With that, he pressed his long, white finger against the gleaming skull-and-snake brand on the inner forearm of the Boy-Who-Lived.

The glistening black mark was revealed to all. Harry's screams were drowned out by the explosion of cheers from the group of black-robed followers that he now belonged to. His scar had actually burst in pain, and a now steady stream of blood flowed from it, mixing with the tears that ran down his face. Voldemort was laughing, the Death Eaters cheering.

Harry's green eyes rolled back into his head, and an unknown feeling took over him. It was a misplaced feeling of warmth, and peace, and long-neglected tranquility, and it at first confused him greatly. But then he began to understand. The pain was dispersing, ebbing away, taking with it his worries and fears. He was falling into unconsciousness as he had done so many times, but it was not the same. Somehow, he knew that he would not be waking up from it this time.

A black void began to surround him. He could still see the Death Eaters, could still see the victorious smile on the Dark Lord's face, but they were unclear and blurred, and seemed to be drifting away. He could no longer hear their laughs and cheers. The figures around him merged with his encasing shadow of view until he could no longer see them. Harry realized that he was dying...but for some reason, he no longer fought it. He accepted it.

Soon there was nothing in his world. There was no Death Eaters, or Voldemort. There was no war. No worries, no pain, no fear. Nothing. Everything was finally over.

His body became limp and crumpled down upon the floor.

Harry Potter was dead. Voldemort had won.

**AN:**

I'm almost afraid to write anything right now because I don't know what you all are thinking of me. Let me first apologize. I know, I know. There couldn't be a worse ending for a chapter ever. Talk about cliff-hangers, I think this one takes the cake. And I'm sorry. If you want some clarification because you can't wait for an explanation in the next chapter, then read the opening AN for Chapter V. Not that it will make anything better...

I'm also sorry for taking so long to update. I've just been really busy, what with a job, school, homework, projects, and, even if limited, social life. And you know how I said in the last chapter that I was going to have the story follow the timeline of the fic? Well...that's not going to happen now, lol. I took too long. It's Halloween. I had something special planned in the story for this date. Now you're just going to have to wait another couple of months to find out what it is.

And, I'm sorry this wasn't that long of a chapter. There's only so much that you can drag things out to. _And..._I'm sorry I keep saying sorry.

Thanks for reading, please review. I'm not even going to bother to say when the next chapter will be out, because I won't stick to that anyway.

May the Force be with you.

Have a Happy Halloween.

Trick-or-Treat.

Remember, remember, the fifth of November...

Take your pick at exit phrases.

nods head and Disapparates


	7. Devastation August 18

1**AN:** That must have been a really really evil cliffhanger for all of you. Glad the suspense didn't kill you and you made it back for this chapter. I'm not going to keep you any longer.

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling no longer owns Harry Potter. He belongs to Voldemort now. Although, she owns Voldy, so I guess she still does own Harry...Maybe this is all in JK's master plan...she's going to side with the Dark Lord! No muggle or mudblood is safe! Rowling has gone to the dark side!

...Anyways...

I'll let you read now. This chapter should clarify quite a few things for you.

**Chapter VII:**

**Devastation**

Torrents of rain cascaded down upon the deserted graveled street. Ginny Weasley collapsed unto the sodden ground in hysterical sobs, from her hand dropping the mask of a nameless Death Eater that had served as her Portkey home. For the first few moments, she allowed the fresh air of freedom to fill her lungs with shuddering gasps; tears of relief, pain, fear, and remorse blending with the rain. She did not know where she was, nor did she care. All that mattered was that Voldemort had allowed her to leave alive, and that she would never be going back.

It was a somewhat euphoric state as she realized that she had truly escaped the clutches of hell and the devil himself. But this brief moment of happiness was immediately subdued as she remembered what it was that she clutched within her other hand.

Slowly prying her eyes open against the fear of what she would see, the first thing she noticed was the light. It was clearly nighttime, and deep heavy rain poured down, but still she was able to notice the burning lights. Lampposts on the corner, struggling against the howling gusts. Candles within the windows of whatever buildings lined the streets. And a thousand tiny pinpricks, glinting innocently in the distance against a large dark shadow.

Light. Even in the darkness they shone brightly against her depraved eyes, for while within the fortress of the Dark Lord, the only lighting was the shade of emerald green, a dull, dark hue that burned the retinas from the lack of just pure, white light.

But this forgotten joy also allowed her to view the source of her grief and remorse. For in her small grasp was the limp, cold hand of Harry Potter.

Harry lay motionless besides her, a battered, unrecognizable figure that was almost too grotesque to look at. His body and flesh mangled, his frame depraved of nourishment and the capability of support. His emerald eyes laying forever unseeing beyond closed eyelids that rested in dark and bruised sockets on a marred face. Blood-matted black hair stuck oddly to his forehead, and for once, the lightening mark for which he was so famous was indistinguishable from the rest of his face's scars. Not even the current downpour could begin to wash away the grime and gore that covered his lifeless body.

Ginny did nothing to even attempt to control her sobbing, shoulders heaving greatly with each gasp. He was dead...He really was dead...Everything he had gone through, all that he had suffered and endured, it all had taken its gravely toll. Harry Potter was dead.

Ginny wrapped her arms around the lifeless form beside her, cradling him to her as she cried. She prayed that he would wake up, that he would somehow be able to come back, but she knew that he never could. Harry was gone...

Her body ached deeply, sharp pains burning constantly, but she did not care. She didn't care what happened to her anymore. She knew that she needed to get help, that she couldn't just lie here waiting for something to happen, but found that she could not move. She tried to call out through her tears, but her voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, and could never be heard over the pounding rain.

A crack of lightening sounded, and Ginny started, jerking her head up to scan her surroundings. Silhouetted against the brief flash of intense light was a dark figure. Through delusion, she was sure that she could recognize him, but then in an instant he was gone, and Ginny was left doubting whether anyone was truly there to begin with.

Shaking from the cold rain, she laid her head back down on Harry's still chest, eyes slowly sliding closed but in no way stopping her tears.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Is that them? Harry! Ginny?" A voice broke the silence of the desolate night, and the sound of hurried footsteps splashing through muddy puddles quickly followed. The rain had long since ceased and Ginny, in a thoroughly delirious state, pried open her eyes to see a beam of what appeared to be wand light bouncing towards them, its owner now at a running pace. Within seconds, she was on her knees besides them.

"Ginny, Harry! Are you alright? What's happened to you?" The voice was frantic. "Alastor! Aberforth! They're over here, I have them!" She called out.

Even though only semi-conscious, Ginny felt a surge of relief. It was Nymphadora Tonks besides her. A member of the Order. Someone who could help.

"T-Tonks?" She whispered brokenly, her entire body shuddering violently from being pounded by the cold rain.

"Oh thank God, Ginny, you're alright." She breathed in relief, wiping her wet, caramel-brown hair out of her face. "But you're both greatly hurt...We need to get you up to the castle, Madam Pomfrey will fix you up. You'll be alright." She then looked over to Harry, assuming his many wounds and unconscious state was the reason for his immobility.

"He looks horrible.." She said sadly. "Oh, what you must have gone through! But-but that doesn't matter now, everything's going to be alright..."

Ginny brought her head up to face Tonks, to tell her what had really happened, but found that she could only look at her through dazed eyes and shake her head slowly. A heavy knot was rising again inside her throat.

Tonks looked as if she was going to laugh. "What do you mean 'no'? You're safe now, we'll get you two fixed up in no time."

Ginny looked at her fully, eyes filled with returned tears. Again, she shook her head, but this time brought the fatal words finally past the rising lump and to her lips. "He's...He's dead..."

Ginny's voice was barely a cracked whisper, but Tonks had heard her. "What do you mean 'he's dead'?" She said, either not comprehending or not wanting to. "Harry? Harry's fine, Ginny, don't worry..."

Ginny reached out and weakly grabbed her arm. "N-no. Harry's...dead..."

Tonks looked at her blankly for a moment before breathing out words in shock. "My God..." Looking over at the motionless body of Harry, she knew it to be true. "My God, no..."

Footsteps were heard behind her, rushing forward. "Nymphadora, is it really them?" Alastor Moody said as he approached with a limping trot. "I've sent Aberforth back up to the castle to alert the rest of the Order..."

But he stopped talking when he saw the look on her face. "What's happened?" He asked urgently.

Tear's now leaked down from Tonks' eyes.

"What is it?" He demanded.

"Its...its Harry..."

"What about Harry?" But one look at the boy's face and he had more answer than he could ever need. He gave a half-step back in shock. "Good Lord! He can't be..?"

Alastor felt as though he had just been hit with a powerful curse in the chest. His breathing had stopped, his chest constricted. "And...and Ginny?" He shifted his eyes to the other child, resting head-down and unmovingly on Harry. "Is...is she dead, as well?"

Tonks looked back at Ginny, who had just passed out again. "No, she's alive...But I don't know by how much, now. We need to get them up to the school..." She said, attempting to regain whatever composure she had left.

"But Harry...? Potter's really gone?" It was more of a question to himself, as he bent down on one knee, placing two fingers on Harry's neck, searching for a pulse that he would never find.

He pulled his hand away slowly, and for a moment sat beside the battered form in silence, with his head down. Nymphadora Tonks was now crying silently on the ground next to him. And then without a word, he got to his feet and conjured two floating stretchers with the wave of his wand. With another wave, Ginny and Harry were both lifted soundlessly onto their own stretcher, and laid motionless. And with one last flick, he had conjured a white sheet to cover Harry Potter's lifeless form.

"They must be brought up to the school. With any luck, we might be able to at least save the girl..."

Tonks could only nod, as she stood up shakily, mud dripping from her sodden robes. Together, they led a solemn procession through the quiet streets of Hogsmeade and up to Hogwarts castle.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Nymphadora was first through the heavy oak doors that led to the Entrance Hall, where the entirety of the Order of the Phoenix was there awaiting the news. Molly Weasley pushed to the front of the crowd, Arthur not far behind.

"Where is she? Where is my daughter? Is she alright?" She questioned frantically. It was at that moment that the stretcher bearing Harry's covered corpse emerged through the doorway. A series of gasps and moans went through the crowd, and Molly fainted to the floor. Arthur knelt besides his wife, arms around her shoulders bracingly.

"Ginny...Ginny's _dead..._?" He whispered, eyes glazed over, having wrongly mistaken Harry's body for that of his daughter's.

Alastor Moody then came through the door, along with the unconscious Ginny. "No. She's still alive, but she needs to be taken to the Hospital Wing immediately."

Arthur shook his head. "But...but if that's not Ginny..."

Moody silently moved over to the other floating stretcher. "Prepare yourselves," he warned, and then drew the sheet away from Harry's face.

"No!" Shrieks and cries went up across the Hall as they looked upon the lifeless face of Harry Potter. Members in the back of the crowd strained their necks to see what had just been revealed, and then drew back in shock once they saw. Many fell to their knees, others grabbed their neighbors for support, but most just stood on in confounded silence.

"Alastor...Alastor is he really...?" McGonagall made her way forward.

"Yes." He said grimly. "Harry Potter is dead."

A second wave of gasps and cries, as the worst fear of every member of the Order was confirmed. They then broke into desperate murmurs.

"It can't be...Not Harry..."

"But...but he can't die! We need him..."

"He was the Chosen One...The Prophecy said..."

"Harry...Harry Potter..._dead..._"

As they fell into chaos, Alastor sadly recovered Harry's bloodied face. He then moved over to the distraught Weasley's, and Minerva McGonagall, who knelt besides them. Molly took the death of Harry as badly as she had the assumed death of Ginny, and was overcome with sobs and moans of grief.

"Arthur, she needs treatment..." Moody began, but was interrupted my Madam Pomfrey, who bustled over to act on just what he was going to say..

"Leave it to me, Alastor, I'll see what I can do. But I feel that a trip to St. Mungo's will be far more effective in this case." She said, as she looked over the vicious wounds that marred Ginny's body. "Molly, Arthur, follow me."

Poppy led the stretcher towards the Hospital wing, while Arthur supported the grieving Molly Weasley.

After they left, all tear-filled eyes were focused on the second stretcher.

"What are we to do with his...with his _body_?" Someone asked, voicing the question that was upon everyone's minds.

"We can't just leave him in the Entrance Hall like this. Maybe we should set him down in another room, or something?"

No one knew what to do. True, they had anticipated his death since the moment of his disappearance, but no one had wanted to think about what they would do if it had actually come to pass.

"There's a table in the room to the left. Its just a spare classroom. We can set him down there for now until he's...moved to prepare for burial..." The speaker was overcome with tears and was unable to continue.

"Yes. Yes, that seems best." McGonagall said weakly. "Alastor..." She indicated him to bring the levitating stretcher into the next room. "Just...lie him on the table..."

Moody gave a rough nod and did just that, resting the body on the table and removing the levitation charm. Someone had followed him through, and conjured black draperies for the windows, and a sheet for the table on which Harry rested. McGonagall summoned some candles for light in the room. The effects of which together transfigured the spare classroom appropriately into a makeshift tomb.

Nymphadora, Alastor, and Minerva stood to the side of the room, and like the rest of the Order, they were unable to tear their eyes away from the sight of the white sheet. After a few moments of silence, Minerva turned to Tonks.

"Perhaps you should go to St. Mungo's and inform Remus before he finds out from someone else. I think you are the best one to tell him..." She said, placing her hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

"Pr-Professor, it would destroy him!" She gasped, for the first time realizing how Lupin would react upon finding out about the death of his best friend's son. "Harry is all that..._was_ all that he had left!"

"He's going to find out sooner or later, Nymphadora. Better sooner." Her voice carried heavy remorse. "Go, now. He needs to know. He _deserves_ to know."

Tonks took one last look at the body on the table, and then nodded and left.

McGonagall gave a wavering breath, and sat down as she conjured a chair. Her back was straight, and her wrinkled hands held softly to her agape mouth. She looked every year of her age. Her eyes shone with sorrow.

"Alastor, what are we to do?" She whispered, as she lowered her hands to her lap. "We _just_ lost Albus, and we're still trying to recover from that. But Harry..." her voice trailed off as she shook her head almost imperceptibly, her normally firm jaw hanging loose.

"Without him, we don't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning this war." He spoke what was evidently on her mind. "I know."

A single tear slid down her face. Minerva McGongall had lost all semblance of the strict professor she usually was. Her eyes were locked on the white sheet. She spoke softly, yet with a fierce edge. "What had he ever done to deserve this? That boy has had a more difficult life then everyone of us here put together. And all because of You-Know-Who and that damned Prophecy!"

Moody lowered his head, both eyes, magical and non, were closed solemnly. "When he died he brought with him the fate of us all. We can't compare to the forces of the Dark Lord. Dumbledore's death: yeah, that was bad. We lost our leader, the only one who ever had even an inkling of what we should be doing. But we were able to get over that by knowing that we still had Potter to depend on. But with him gone..." He let the imposing sentence hang unfinished.

There was absolute silence in the room for nearly half an hour, except for the occasional sob of grief or moan of despair. No one had anything else to say. No one had anything else to do. They were all lost within a troubled world where the worst nightmare imaginable had just become a reality.

A resounding crack split the deafening silence, and everyone jumped and turned to the source. Standing in the doorway, looking more disheveled then he had ever been, was Remus Lupin.

"Remus!" McGonagall said as she got to her feet shakily. She moved towards the door, but one look from him and a slight shake of his head told her not to do anything. She watched him as he wearily made his way to the table at the far end, fighting the lump rising in her throat.

Members of the Order backed farther away from the table, allowing him his space, while others left the room entirely, deciding it was their time to go. Lupin stared at the death shroud that covered the body, the white seeming to glow within the darkness of the candle-lit room.

When he reached the table, he stared down at the human-sized lump beneath the sheet; unseeing, unbelieving. And then with one swift motion he had torn the entire covering away, so that the body of Harry was openly viewed by all. Many gasped in shock and fear at the unimaginable severity of the inflicted wounds, others simply turned away, unable to bear such a sight.

But Lupin...Lupin just fell to his knees and wept, head and arms resting upon the grotesque, lifeless form.

Harry had been everything to him, the one final connection to his past when things had been good. He was all that he had had left. But now he was gone. Lily and James, Sirius, even Peter...all of his friends were gone, the people who had been as good as family to him.

In the past 3 years, he had had everyone of his friends returned to him, and then taken away again. He had learned that Sirius had truly been innocent of betrayal, and that it had really been Wormtail's fault all along. He had learned that Peter hadn't truly died, but had faked his own death to escape justice. As much as he despised him at that point, he was still an old friend, and knowing he wasn't dead had provided some small comfort. And then he had finally met Harry...and having Harry was like being with Lily and James again.

But now...There was no one. Losing Harry was like reliving that one Halloween night all over, the night that he had lost everything...

Overcome by excessive grief, Remus Lupin did not move from his position against Harry, his frayed robes now stained with the boy's still wet blood. He allowed time to slip by uncounted, lost within the unbearable weight placed upon him and seeming to care for nothing else.

A warm hand rested on his heaving shoulder, and Remus knew it was Tonks. She knelt down beside him and gently pulled him away from Harry's body, holding him in a comforting embrace. He didn't fight it; he put his head upon her shoulder and cried. Knowing that he was not truly alone, that he still had Nymphadora, provided a piece of much needed comfort. But still: it wasn't enough to make up for the loss of Harry.

"It's all my fault..." He spoke through his sobs, more to himself than to Tonks. "I should have been there; he was taken on my watch. I could have prevented this, I could have saved him..."

"Remus! This isn't your fault! Please, don't take this blame..." She whispered with some difficulty.

"No. I wasn't there, I left him! It was my job to protect him, and I failed."

"You did not kill Harry."

"But I didn't save him either!" He said, looking up at her.

"Remus, you were almost killed by Pettigrew trying to get him back! You did everything that could have possibly done!"

"But it wasn't enough. I should have been out there looking, we could have found him."

"You were in the hospital_ unconscious_! And we've been looking for You-Know-Who's hideout for years and we've never found it. We tried, Remus, there was nothing more we could have done. We did everything."

His voice was softer, weaker, when he next spoke. "I want him back, Nymph. He can't have died. I needed him. We _all _needed him..."

"I know..." She helped him back to his feet, his gaze transfixed on Harry's bruised and bloodied body, and attempted to lead him from the room. They were going to meet up with the rest of the Order, to discuss what they now should do.

The room was almost empty now, save themselves, Alastor Moody, McGonagall, and a spare few others, and they were all making their way towards the door. But before any of them could take more than a few steps, a strange, unknown sound was heard, faintly, as if in the distance. Someone was speaking, but yet they all stood in silence. And the voice that was being heard didn't even sound _human. _It was cold and harsh, laced with evil. It sounded like hissing, almost like a...

Snake.

"Its Parseltongue!" Lupin exclaimed, and everyone looked around, confused.

The serpentine language grew louder, and seemed to swirl around the room, surrounding them, constricting them. Almost as a serpent would before consuming its prey. Heads turned rapidly in fear, searching for a source.

And yet they somehow all knew that it was not coming from inside this room.

The hissing Parseltongue continued to grow steadily louder, repeating the same phrase over and over again. It swirled around them, binding them, encasing them unmovingly in the serpent's language as if it, itself, was an actual, tangible thing.

And then it stopped-- leaving the room in stunned silence.

But that was just the beginning.

Only a moment after the hissing had ceased, the limp body that had been laying clearly lifeless on the table had snapped into a rigid and straight form, eyes shooting open.

Blood. Red. Eyes.

Eyes that were the same color as the thick liquid that gushed freely from the lightening bolt scar on his forehead.

Everyone looked on, appalled, astonished. _What the hell was going on?_

Just then, Harry erupted into an anguished scream, his dry, cracked mouth stretched to the widest extent, the sides splitting they were stretched so far. Blood now trickled from the corners of his mouth, and from his scar, mixing with the many other clotted wounds that covered him. That sound that filled the room was one that you could never forget: the sound of a blood-curdling, bone-chilling scream, that came from the mouth of the battered body of a boy that you _knew_ without even the slightest doubt in your nerve-wracked mind to be dead.

Fear beyond all else is the only thing that could ever be used to encompass the feeling of everyone left within the room, as they stood as if stupefied, transfixed by the horrors before them.

Harry continued his harsh scream as his body burst into uncontrollable spasms. He thrashed wildly, red eyes wide in fear and pain. It was clear that whatever was the cause of this was causing him great anguish as his body continued to convulse.

No amount of training could ever prepare anyone for an event like this, but after the initial shock of what was happening wore off, everyone left realized that they needed to do something to help. Several Order members, Alastor Moody included, ran up to him to try and hold him still. But at the slightest touch, their hands were burned by whatever was plaguing Harry's body.

"We can't touch him!" Moody yelled, looking down at his scalded hands. Their was no evidence of them being burned, but they felt as if they were on fire.

"What do you mean you can't touch him?" Lupin exclaimed, held back by Tonks' clutch from racing to Harry as well.

"It burns! Its some powerful Dark Magic."

"I don't care what it is, we have to help him!"

"Remus, no! You're hurt, you're still too weak..." Tonks tried to warn him.

"I don't care," he repeated. "I have to help Harry..." He twisted his arm from her and ran towards the convulsing form on the table.

He pressed his hands hard on the boy's chest, pushing him against the table with all his force. He grimaced in anguish as his hands burned fiercely, his breathing heavy with the pain of it and from the effort of trying to hold down the thrashing body down.

"Harry...Harry _please..._" Lupin struggled to hold him, ignoring the searing pain in his hands. "I don't know what's happening to you right now, but please...fight it. You're alright...just lie still..Harry...please...if you can hear me...just fight it...you're going to be alright..._please..._."

Harry looked up at him in what looked like rage, uncharacteristic red eyes gleaming in anger. Remus pleaded for him to stop, to come back. He met the blood-colored eyes and held their gaze, determined not to look away. And slowly, the red seemed to fade away, revealing, beneath, the famous emerald green. Hidden deep within them was a fear that Lupin had never seen before, one that he couldn't even begin to fathom. And once it seemed the _real _Harry had come back, the convulsions died off, the screaming subsided, leaving the body limp once more. Lupin released the pressure on Harry's chest, but continued to stare down at him.

"You're going to be alright, Harry. I promise." The emerald orbs showed no emotion, as they rolled to face the back of his head and silently closed, who knows when, or if, they would open again. Harry was trembling slightly now, shivering as though only cold. His breathing was in short, ragged gasps, and whatever color had been left in his face under all the scarring was completely gone.

"We need to get him to St. Mungo's." Lupin said to the stunned silent Order as he collapsed into the nearest chair. "Harry's alive..."

**AN:**

Wow. What a terribly long wait I made you all endure. And I don't just mean since November, I mean since a couple years back when I last posted in my first story Death Comes Unto All. I have been trying to get passed that point since I was in 8th grade, and now I'm a Junior in Highschool. So you think you had to wait long to read it, heh, it's taken me that long to finally get through and write it.

Well, I hope this satisfied your curiosity for the time being, although I'm sure that its created some more for other parts. Patience. I repeat: _patience._ It's a skill that I don't have and know that I need, so I'll pass the word of advice along to you all as well. Time will tell if you wait and see. Any questions that you have will ((eventually :) )) be answered.

So, thanks for reading, and of course, reviewing. Tell me what you think!

Aloha and mahalo! (( just came back from Hawaii this morning!))

nods head and Disapparates

The Force will be with you, always.


	8. Revitalization September 12

1**AN:** Not that Chapter VII was confusing or anything...grins _He's dead, omg! He can't be. No, wait, he's alive? Ah! What is he? _Yeah, sorry about that. Let me confirm your suspicions. Yes, he was dead. Yes, he is alive. How? Can't tell you. You'll just have to read and find out.

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter...Voldemort owns Harry Potter! That's right: Voldy pwn3d Harry!...Alright, I'm done now...JKR owns HP.

**Chapter VIII:**

**Revitalization**

Pain.

As consciousness began to fill Harry again, that was the first thing he was aware of. The all-consuming, mind-constricting dysphoria of your entire body being wracked with an unbearable torment. No one even had a right to be in this much pain and still be alive.

But alive he was.

He clenched his eyes in the slow preparation for opening them. He did not know what would be there to greet him when he did. His eyelids were heavy, and the strain to separate them even a crack exhausted him. But with enough effort, one eyelid slid open. A ray of white light shown directly into his retina, temporarily blinding him and he clenched his eyes again. A shooting pain encased his head, and it felt as if his entire brain gave a great throb.

Maybe opening his eyes wasn't such a good idea...

Harry attempted to sit up, but that didn't work either. His limbs were like lead, and the slightest movement sent an excruciating jolt throughout him. He raised his head perhaps an inch before he was overcome by a wave of nausea.

So moving wasn't such a good idea either...

He lay still and silent, unable to do anything else. He realized that he was in a bed somewhere, but he didn't know where he was or how he got there. He couldn't even remember why he was in so much pain. But whatever it was must have been hell to make him feel like this afterwards. At least he hoped it was afterwards...Without being able to remember anything there was always the possibility that he was still trapped somewhere, still in the process of being inflicted with torment.

He decided that it would be best to figure out where he really was, risking another attempt at opening his eyes. He did so even more slowly than the first time, this time at least expecting the blinding light. Very slowly they slid open. Harry winced at the initial intensity of the light, but gradually became accustomed to it. It was quite a while before things were actually visable, his head spinning from the light and the confusion of the entire situation. It made his head throb painfully, but he was able to ignore it as it blended with the rest of his body's anguish.

Several dark and blurry shapes were discernable in the room that he was in, but all else was still lost in the light. He could just make out a figure sitting in a chair beside him. There was something familiar about the hunched-over man, but Harry couldn't tell if he had even seen him before in his life. He appeared to be sleeping, as if he hadn't left the bedside in quite some time. So clearly whoever this was knew Harry.

He tried to talk, to say anything that would attract the man's attention, but like everything previous, he failed. His lips were dry and cracked, and they stuck together as he pulled them apart. His mouth was also dry, and it felt as if it was filled with a sticky paste, his tongue attached to the roof of his mouth. He could taste blood.

The sound that escaped his lips was no more than forced air. There was no vocalization. He tried it again, and was met with the same. On the third time, he managed a slight groan.

"Rrgh..."

That did it. Whoever was in the chair was alerted by the unfamiliar sound, his ears having been strained to hear it for so long. He sat upright and looked around for a moment, before his eyes came to rest on Harry. They immediately grew to twice their size when he realized that Harry was awake.

He got to his feet and rushed to Harry's side, wearing a grin from ear to ear. He began to speak rapidly in a language that Harry could not understand. Harry furrowed his brow in confusion, and as he did he could feel the dried blood on his face cracking. The man before him certainly did look familiar now, but he couldn't place him.

The man had greying hair that stuck out at odd angles, and clothes that were just as disheveled. But his eyes held a youthful gleam as he looked at Harry, continually speaking. He was clearly unaware that Harry had no idea of who he was or what he was saying.

This was all too much for Harry to take in at one time. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

When he woke up the second time, it took his eyes only half the time they did before to adjust to the lighting. The first thing he saw was the man from earlier. But this time he was not alone in the room. Surrounding him were nearly a dozen other figures.

They at once ceased talking when they saw the fluttering of his eyelids, and when opened, they were greeted with the sight of nearly forgotten emerald eyes. Harry did not need to speak, his eyes spoke volumes. They showed just how lost and confused he was, and how much pain he was truly in.

The first man tried to speak to him again. "Harry. Please, try and stay awake as long as you can. I know its hard, but just try and stay awake."

Harry could hear him, and he knew the words that he was saying, but couldn't figure out what they meant. It wasn't as if he was speaking a new language, it was as if he was speaking an old one that Harry had somehow forgot. He did not know what the man was trying to tell him.

"Remus, I–I don't think he can hear us..." said a girl standing beside him. She had bright purple hair: _How odd_. Harry thought. And he could not understand what she had said either.

_She had called him Remus though._ Harry was able to pick up. Now that he thought about it, that sounded sort of familiar. And as he stared at the man in confusion, Harry could faintly remember him. Although he had thought his name had been something else. Something to do with the sky maybe? No, with night...He couldn't remember.

"Is...is that normal?" The man whose name was apparently Remus asked to someone else besides him. This person looked a little more official, as if he might have worked there. Was he a doctor? In that case, was Harry in some kind of hospital? That would be the most probable case...

"Under these circumstances, I don't think that any of the 'normal' rules would even apply here anyway. However, it is not uncommon for trauma victims to have temporary hearing loss. If that is the case, there is also the possibility of memory loss, or even amnesia."

Harry listened to the conversation, but still could not decipher what was being said. The one who he assumed to be the doctor appeared to be asking him a question now.

"Harry. Can you hear me?"

He creased his brow in confusion. The doctor then tried a different approach. He said the same thing again, but this time pantomiming his words. The doctor pointed to Harry, then to his ear, and then to and from his mouth.

What was he trying to say? _Can you hear what I'm saying? _Harry thought that was the best fit, and gave his head a slight nod in response. The movement gave him a sudden and severe headache, which subsided just as fast as it came.

The doctor looked back at the others, all watching apprehensively. "Alright. So he can hear us, there's no hearing loss then. But that's not to say there's no mental disorientation."

That had been everyone's fear. That they would finally have Harry wake up, only to find that he had gone incurably insane as a result of Voldemort's tortures. The doctor ventured another hand-gestured question.

"Can you understand what I am saying?" He said each word slowly as he acted it out, just as before. Harry was able to figure out what the motions stood for. He shook his head. 'No.'

The doctor gave him a pitied look before turning to the others. He relayed the verdict, in case there was anyone that had not seen for themselves. Plus, he was required to give an official statement.

"Alright. So he can hear us, he just isn't able to comprehend what we are saying yet. This is not something that we should be unduly worried about. We are still within the first hour of consciousness; his brain is still trying to piece everything together. He has been through a great deal, this is only to be expected. His mind is most likely in a state that closely resembles post-traumatic shock. It might be a few hours, or even days, before everything returns to normal. Or as normal as _he'll_ ever be." He looked over at Harry and gave a wink. Harry was still completely lost as to what exactly was going on.

"But...He's not..._insane_ is he? He hasn't lost his mind?" Someone asked.

"Oh, no. He's completely in his right mind, its just a little _addled_ at the moment. As far as we can tell, at least. We'll know more as he recovers."

There were a few more question-answer exchanges, but Harry didn't even bother trying to listen. The strange words were making his head hurt worse than it already was. He just wanted to go back to sleep, and hoped that when he woke up it would all have been a dream.

He started to think, then. If it was a dream, where would he wake up at? Where did he live? He didn't know the answer. The more he thought of it, the more he realized he didn't know. Did he live with his family, his parents? Who _were _his parents? Could they be two of the people in the room right now? Who were all of these people anyway, and how did they know him? Where was he, how did he get here, and what the hell had happened to him!?

He grew frustrated at not knowing these answers. And he couldn't even ask anyone because he wasn't able to form words. But even if he was it wouldn't matter because he couldn't understand what these people were saying anyway. They kept talking, clearly about him, but he didn't know what they were saying. Surely they were answering his very questions right now, if only he could comprehend them...

He got so aggravated that he tried to scream, but all he managed to make was a hoarse grunting sound. That got everyone's immediate attention.

"Harry?"

_That must be my name._ He thought. _That's the third time they've called me that._ _Hang on...how can I not even know my own name?_

Everyone was watching him again, and he desperately tried to form words. "What happened?" He tried to say, but all that came out was another grunt.

"Go on," Remus urged him, goading him as if he were a two-year-old learning a new word. Well, essentially, he was. Minus the two-year-old bit, of course.

"Wh-wha..." He strained his throat in an effort to talk. "H-ha...end?"

But there was no congratulatory response for him breaking his own sound barrier. Instead, the encouraging smiles on everyone's faces seemed to droop, as they stared at him, baffled.

"Was that...was that _Parseltongue_?" Asked the doctor, clearly just as bewildered.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it was...But why...?"

"I had thought that was just a rumor. I never believed for a second that Harry Potter was actually a Parselmouth..." The doctor continued to look at him in revered amazement.

"Well, evidently it was the truth." said Lupin, force implied in his voice. "Now, do you know of any reason why he would be reverting to it as his basic language?"

The man seemed to recover. "Well...who knows what You-Know-Who could have done? If that was the language that was being primarily spoken to him while he was being put through whatever it was, in a sense it could have trapped some of his functions and memories at that point of trauma. In other words, the damage froze them in place. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was speaking to Harry in Parseltongue the entire time, that could be the only language that he might be able to remember for a while."

"So, he can't understand us, and we can't understand him. How are we supposed to find out what happened?" The girl with the purple hair said.

"Well, can anyone speak here Parseltongue?" Someone joked darkly.

There was an assortment of half-hearted chuckles and snorts of denial. But then someone unexpectedly spoke up.

"Actually, I can." The man who spoke had just walked into the room, carrying a clipboard and wearing the same uniform as the current doctor.

"Vel! Thank goodness you've made it in..." Lupin said, clasping his hand.

"You think I wouldn't be here for _this_? Hell, I'd be here even if it wasn't my job..."

"Excuse me, but _your_ job?" Asked the present Healer.

"Oh, yes. Sorry. Vel Pyrites." he said, introducing himself to the other doctor. "I'm a Healer here, as well, specializing in the aftereffects of dark curses."

He looked at Harry, taking in the extent of his wounds. A small smile creased his face. "And I must say that this boy has seen some of the darkest."

"Vel..you're a _Parselmouth_?" asked a member of the Order. "You've never mentioned that before..."

"Well, its not exactly a trait that most wizards would be proud of having." But something about the way that he said that made you think he wasn't including himself within that collective 'most wizards.' Although no one seemed to notice this.

He moved closer to Harry and began examining some of the un-bandaged wounds. "So, do you know anything about what happened?" He asked.

"No, not much. Only that he was with the Dark Lord for nearly three weeks..." A member of the Order said.

"The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters." Vel corrected, without looking up from Harry's scars.

"What?"

Pyrites gave a small smile. "The Dark Lord _and _his Death Eaters. There are too many variations in the scarring for them to be caused by just the Dark Lord alone. Clearly, there was quite a variety of techniques used against him." With his eyes, he traced a thin scar that was visible on Harry's arm. He remembered that one. Actually, he remembered them all. But that one..._That one had been the first one of his to make Harry scream._

"Can you help him, Vel?" Nymphadora Tonks asked, voice filled with concern. "Do you know what was used, can you counteract it?"

"I'll do whatever can be done. But it's going to be tough. The Dark Lord clearly has some Death Eaters with a strong knowledge in torture techniques. And they exhibited their knowledge ungodly well..." He complimented himself, against their knowledge.

"But you can help him...He'll be alright?"

"No promises, but I should be able to get him mostly healed up. I'm sorry, I know that's not exactly the best thing you want to hear from a Healer, but it's all I can offer at the moment. I'll need some time to examine the wounds before making an official statement."

"And just when will you be doing that?" asked the first Healer.

"As soon as I can get this room ready." He said, then turned to Remus and the rest of the Order. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to need to ask you to leave."

"Wait...leave? Can't we..."

"Remus, you know I would let you, but its against procedure. The entire thing should take 15 minutes, tops. After that, you can come back in. Harry will probably be asleep again by then, though."

"But..."

"Fifteen minutes. You have my word."

Remus looked at Harry, who looked overly confused by the entire ordeal, and nodded. "Alright. And you should have an analysis by then?"

"Yes, sir." He said with a smile, writing something down on his clipboard.

"Come on, Remus. We're going to go get some tea and coffee." Tonks said as the rest of the Order left. Remus took her hand and followed them.

"You seem to know them really well." The younger Healer said conversationally.

"Well, who doesn't?"

"Er...a lot of people. They're kind of a rogue band, aren't they?"

"Well I wouldn't necessarily say _rogue, _per se. We're just... individualistic."

"Wait...'we're'? Are you," he lowered his voice. "Are you a member of the Order?"

Vel had to close his eyes and take a breath before looking up to answer the man. "I'm sorry, but just who exactly are you?"

The Healer seemed slightly startled at the question, but regained composure well. "Augustus Pye. I'm a Healer here, just like yourself."

"Ah, yes. You were a just a trainee not a year ago, though, no?"

"Well, yes, but I've recently..."

"_Recently_ isn't good enough with a patient in a state of such severity. We need to make sure that we have the _best_ on staff." He grinned kindly at Pye, although the smile was nearly transparent.

"Yes. Yes, of course." he nodded rapidly in agreement, ashamed to do anything else.

"Glad you understand. Now. They pulled me off my current patient for this. A girl on the first floor suffering from burns from a cursed cauldron. She's been released, now, to your charge. I suggest that you go tend to her." Pyrites stared hard at Augustus, who could only stand and nod his head dumbly, fearful of the rashness of this new Healer.

"Well?"

"Er...well what?"

"Merlin! Do you think that exploding potion wounds cure themselves?"

"No. I– "

"Then go!" Pyrite demanded, and Augustus Pye very nearly scurried from the room. "And please seal the door on your way out."

A faintly stammered "yes, sir" could be heard just before the door was magically locked in place. Vel had to force himself to suppress his smile, as he shook his head. He then turned to Harry, who looked more lost and confused then ever.

"Hello, Harry." Pyrite smiled. He spoke in Parseltongue.

Harry was able to understand him! He didn't care how or even why he could hear this man, he was just so glad that he would finally be able to get some answers.

"Wha...happened?" He said immediately, although his voice was still broken and harsh.

"How much can you remember, Harry?" he asked, putting down his clipboard and looking directly at him. He stared at Harry through copper eyes that seemed eerily familiar, and for some reason, they unnerved him.

Harry thought as hard as he could, trying to remember the details of what had caused him to be like this. After a moment of strained thinking, he shook his head. Nothing.

Inwardly, Pyrite smiled to himself. _Good. _He thought. He glanced back at the door to ensure that it was truly locked before he spoke again.

"Listen, Harry. You may not know me, but I most certainly know you. And I know that you are a trusting person. So you are going to have to trust me when I say that everything that I am about to tell you is the truth." He nodded his head, encouraging Harry to do likewise.

Harry looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes. He realized that this was a bit more than a doctor-patient talk. He gave his head a slight nod of agreement, although he did so warily.

He took a breath before he began, his copper eyes staring directly into Harry's emerald ones. Why did they look so familiar?

"The people that were just in this room are not to be trusted." Pyrites said in all severity, and Harry didn't even need to ask what he was thinking: his face said it for him.

"Why? Because they allowed you to be captured, Harry. That's what happened. You were

left alone to die and they never came to your rescue. _It was their job to protect you_."

"Protect me...? Captured...?" Harry asked, now actually fearful of what he was to find out.

"You don't remember that?" Pyrite asked, unable to hide his surprise. "Do you even remember the Dark Lord?"

Harry shook his head.

Pyrite did some quick thinking. Maybe this could work out more to their advantage then they had previously thought...

"Harry, the Dark Lord is the most powerful wizard to have ever lived. He.."

"..._Wizard_?" Harry questioned.

Pyrite nearly flat-lined right then and there. "You...you don't know?" He asked, more to himself than Harry. His tone was incredulous. "You don't know even that?"

Harry could only stare at him, entirely lost about _everything_.

Pyrites could only stare back. Voldemort had said that there would be some memory loss. But this...this was ridiculous! _Harry Potter not knowing about Voldemort_! No, forget that. _Harry Potter not even knowing about _wizards. How could one even begin to describe the existence of magic without sounding like a loony? Right now, Harry had the mind-set of a worthless Muggle, and a confused one at that.

But then Vel began to think. _This, too, could be used to their advantage. _If the boy had forgotten his own memories, Pyrites would just have to create some new ones for him. The Dark Lord had told him to make the best out of every situation that would be presented here. Pyrites intended to do just that. _And more._

"What I am going to tell you, Harry, you already know. You have just...momentarily forgotten. As I say things, they should begin to register themselves as facts within your mind. If they don't, you'll just have to try a little harder to remember. Not everything I tell you is going to be pleasant. Some of it you're not going to like at all. But it's the truth and you have to accept it. Understand?"

Harry gave another small nod. Inwardly, Vel was smiling. This was going to be too easy, like molding a fresh piece of clay into whatever new shape he desired. He began his task slowly, heaving a large, theatrical sigh.

"First off: You're a wizard. I am as well, just like everyone else in this building. This is St. Mungo's; a wizarding hospital. We, wizards, have our own secret world within the Muggle one. Muggles are people without magic." He said it all very basically. There was really no need for lengthy explanations for, after all, he was simply jarring old memories.

And as soon as he had said it, Harry was able to remember. It seemed like they were pieces to a puzzle, finally being put into place. He knew immediately that they had a perfect fit with the fragments of his mind, and he was able to recall a few simple things about his past. People in cloaks with wands, casting spells and making potions: just the basic wizarding essentials. But other than that, all other memories remained under lock-and-key. He nodded to Pyrites to show that he did, at least, vaguely remember what he had just been told.

"Alright, good. At least you won't think I'm completely mental." He gave a twisted sort of smile, that appeared to Harry as friendly and kindhearted. Of course, that was only how Vel _wanted_ it to appear. It quickly vanished, though, as he began to speak again.

"Now, Harry. There are two kinds of wizards out there: those who embrace only a _portion_ of magic, and those that embrace_ all _of it. Those who only choose to practice a fragment of their power do so because they are afraid of the other type. Likewise, they are afraid of the wizards that _do_ wield this power. They have labeled the ones they fear as the 'dark side' and 'evil', and themselves the 'light' and the 'good'. But this is a narrow and twisted view."

Vague fragments of memory were brought to the front of Harry's mind at this. '_There is no good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it...'_ He could not remember from where he had heard this, but it fit along with what Pyrites was explaining to him. But something didn't feel right, as if he wasn't supposed to agree with this. But if Pyrites was telling him it was true, and his mind was able to remember being told the same thing before, then the truth it must be.

Again, he nodded his head in agreement, although with slight more hesitation then the last time. To Pyrites, that nod was the key to succeeding. If Harry hadn't believed that, then he would not believe anything else that he was about to tell him. But now he could use that belief as the groundings of everything else, fully replacing Harry Potter's entire view on life...He let his breath go in an inaudible sigh of relief, realizing that he had been holding it in with the anticipation of Harry's acceptance. _This was actually going to work..._

"Harry. Those people that were in here earlier are among those that have labeled themselves 'good'. They fear the larger spectrum of power because they cannot understand it. The fear using it, and vow that they will not. They believe that anyone who does use it should be, for lack of a better word _eliminated_, and yet they fear to fight it. It is this fear that causes you to lie here today.

"You were brought to the leader of their opposing side, _Lord Voldemort_, because he wanted to teach you this other side of power. Harry, you are a remarkably strong wizard. Voldemort knew this, and wanted to assist you in gaining strength, because you have the potential to become something so great. But they did not want you to learn this power, because of their fear of it. And yet they were so afraid, that they would not come to your rescue, to your assistance. They would not save your life because they were afraid of losing their own. They are controlled by their fear."

Harry felt an upsurge of anger towards those people. _They had left him to die..._But then something else occurred to him, an even darker thought.

"Who...h-hurt me?"

Pyrites looked at him for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Regrettably, Harry, it was Voldemort that did this to you. _But he did not want to._" He added firmly.

"Voldemort wanted you to learn the full spectrum of power, a talent for which you have shown since an early age. But you have grown up amongst those that have enforced upon you the wrongness of this power. This belief had been so strongly embedded upon your mind that you had become numb to it, you hated it. You were stubborn and ignored the offer of power that was being presented to you because you had been taught to fear it. But Voldemort would not lose you; would not let your talent go to waste because of fear.

"Now. Unfortunately and as horrible as it may sound, the only way to remove these views

is through a certain means of..._persuasion. _Do not be fooled: it was not senseless torture. This was only done to you to remove the thoughts that had been placed within your head by those with narrow minds. It would not have been done if you had been raised with the acceptance of this larger power, instead of in fear of it. So it is the fear of those that claim they loved you that caused you to be subjected unto that."

"...'oldemort did this to me...?"

"Yes, Harry, but I told you that it was not something that he had wanted to do. He only did it to help you."

"...'elp me by 'urting me?"

"Harry, it did help you! It removed the bonds that your mind had been placed under. In the end, you _did_ accept Voldemort's offer of power! You realized how wrong everyone else had been and you decided to listen to what Voldemort could teach you. You have joined him and embraced your full potential." He tried to draw the blame back to the Order members, and away from Voldemort.

"But...I..." he wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to say. Something about what Pyrites was saying was just so incredulous that he couldn't believe it. Why would he join sides with someone who had tortured him, even if that's not what Pyrites had called it? He needed more than just Pyrites' word before he accepted this.

"Proof..." was all he could say.

"You say you need proof? Well, you already have it. Its been with you all this time."

Harry looked at him inquisitively, wondering what he could possibly mean by this. Vel Pyrites moved to the other side of the bed and began undoing the bandages that were around Harry's right arm, talking as he did so.

"Voldemort gives everyone of his 'followers' a certain mark, as a way of remembrance and identification. Only those who have truly accepted his offer can even live through its application." He unwound the final strip of blood-stained bandaging on Harry's arm, and Harry strained to move his head to view what lay underneath.

There, amongst the scars and bruises, was the dull image of a scarlet skull and snake, embedded upon his flesh.

"This, Harry, is the mark of Voldemort. I cannot offer you any further proof then that. I, too, bear that mark." Harry looked back up at Pyrites, who had rolled up the sleeve of his own robes to reveal an identical symbol on his extended arm.

"We are called Death Eaters; followers of Lord Voldemort. Several weeks ago, you choose to join us because you were finally presented with the truth and you accepted it. Your entire life had been built upon lies, knowing only to fear what challenged those beliefs, forced to believe them evil and wrong. But with Voldemort you saw through those lies, Harry...

"Now just because you have finally seen the truth does not mean that everyone else will as well. If they find out that you have joined us...I can't predict what the outcome would be. They want the Death Eaters dead or imprisoned, and the fact that you now bear our mark is as good as a death warrant to them. _They cannot find out about this_. Do whatever you can do to make sure that they never know. When you took that mark, you took an oath as well. An oath that made you swear your allegiance under absolute secrecy. You cannot tell someone you are a Death Eater, nor can you tell that someone else is a Death Eater. If this bind is broken by you revealing your identity, the spells that bound you to it will be broken as well. And they will kill you. In one way or another, if you tell someone who does not already know of your allegiance, you will die. Tread carefully."

Harry allowed his mind to absorb this, his eyes staring blankly at the image upon his arm. It seemed so dark and foreboding, twisted and vile...and yet it was there so he must have accepted its presence. And, under the fear and threat of imminent death, there was nothing that he could do about it anyway. Acceptance was the only option. Without removing his eyes from it, he gave a slow nod of understanding.

"There is one more thing that must be done now, Harry." Pyrites said, with a hesitance that could not fully mask his glee. "We must seal these memories within you. Otherwise, they could slip away again, and you would not recall any of this nor anything previous to this.

"Once alerted of your awakening, the Dark Lord Voldemort will require a meeting to further explain everything to you. He will allow you a few days of rest and recovery before he calls. I will be here to assist you in getting to him."

Harry nodded for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. His mind was reeling, his entire body was in absolute pain, and his head had a constant throbbing. He was beginning to lose focus on Pyrites words and found himself just wanting to go back to sleep.

"To warn you...this next bit is going to hurt.." with that, he procured a thin wand from his pocket, and pressed the tip directly upon Harry's mark. Immediately, a jolt of intense pain was sent through him and his body gave a great spasm. His mind was flooded with the fragments of a thousand old memories, meshing together with Pyrites' words to reform his forgotten memory. It was as if his entire head had been opened wide, the gates that had held it closed finally unlocked. He was able to remember everything. People, places, things: they all resumed their rightful place inside his mind. But he did not know that a few new places had formed to fit the new implanted thoughts. His previous thoughts of happiness with the Order of the Phoenix were now overlapped with how he had come to disagree with and distrust their beliefs, how they had lied to him over so many things. He remembered _Dumbledore_, and for some reason found himself hating him more than anything that he had ever known. There was only one person now that he could wholly trust and put his faith into. And that was Voldemort...He remembered the torture, vividly, and yet he know knew that it had been done only with the best intentions for himself, and he accepted this.

With all these thoughts reconnecting themselves within his mind, it siphoned the energy from Harry's physical body. He grew unbearably tired and his eyes rolled back into his head as he breathed out a last air of consciousness, falling back into a dreamless world of sleep.

"Sleep well, Harry." Pyrites said through a twisted smile. He finished readjusting the bandages to conceal Harry's now jet-black mark, and then left the room.

**AN:** Well...it hasn't been _that _long since my last update...has it? I don't have the audacity to check. I've told you before, I really am sorry that it takes me so long to write. Its just that sometimes I get the worst case of writer's block and just end up staring at a screen with a few lines scrawled on it thinking 'this is just bad writing'. Delete the lines, start over again.

It also doesn't help that my thumbdrive has proven itself useless again. Well, this time it was stolen out of the school computer I was using. My frantic searches proved futile and my poor, poor thumbdrive has never been seen again. I feel really bad for whoever finds it and attempts to read all the documents stored on there. Hope they're a Potter fan, otherwise they'd think that I was INSANE!

So, lifes been busy besides that, too, so I really do apologize for the lack of speed between chapters. This time I'm going to try a lot harder to update faster, especially with the imminent release of book 7 just around the corner. I really don't think that I could continue with this after the book comes out...So, I promise to try and write faster, and hopefully I'll stick to that this time. Maybe I should place myself under an Unbreakable Vow or something to ensure that I don't tarry from my word...

Anyways, as always, thanks for reading and extra special thanks for reviewing. But honestly, the more reviews the faster I update...(hint, hint).

So, I depart now in my usual way.

May the Force be with you.

x Nods head and Disapparates x

PS: At least it isn't as bad as a cliffhanger as it usually is... x

grins x


	9. Recuperation September 21

**AN:** This will, no doubt, be the last chapter before the release of the final book. I don't know if I will be able to continue it after Deathly Hallows is out, but I am going to try. So, I guess you can enjoy this last chapter.

And if by some chance Harry _does_ become a Death Eater...Well, you now know where JKR got the idea from. :D

Disclaimer: Due to the fear of anything happening in return of me not stating a proper disclaimer, this one is going to be straightforward and sincere. JK Rowling, along with her lawyers, publishers, editors, and all those other book-producing peoples that are able to have their names printed in credit somewhere within those marvelous books own Harry Potter. There, I said it. And not a sarcastic comment in sight. :P

**CH: IX**

**Recuperation**

It had been a little over a week since Harry had returned to a conscious state. Well, to be precise it had been 9 days. To be _even more_ precise, it had been 9 days, 17 hours, and 41 minutes. And how do we know this? Because when you are confined to a bed for that long a time there is little else you can do besides count the minutes that you are forced to endure. Oh. _42 minutes. _Time sure does fly.

Harry was feeling a thousand percent better than he had when he had first woken up those nine days ago. Thanks to the Healing powers of Vel Pyrite, he was recovering much faster than anyone had thought he would have. Vel seemed to have an uncannily thorough knowledge of Dark curses and torture techniques utilized by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and was able to figure out the ones that were used against Harry. And by knowing this, he knew exactly what was to be used to counter them. No one really knew just how it was that he knew these things so well. And no one asked. Harry was healing up and, at the moment, that was all that mattered.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix were in to visit Harry every day. He was able to remember them all, now, except for a few new members that he hadn't yet met. They all talked about how glad they were that he was alright, and how horrible it would have been if he had been killed by the Dark Lord. They all seemed like nice enough people, showing genuine concern for his well-being, but he was also able to remember that for some reason or another, they weren't to be fully trusted.

Although all of his memories had returned they still felt odd and partially out of place. His mind seemed continually clouded over and cluttered, as if there was something in there that didn't quite belong. When he asked about it (in English, mind, for he was able to remember that now, as well), everyone just attributed it to the stress and the trauma that he had been through, and that he shouldn't be concerned with it. But, should he really be trusting them? Each time he thought about it, all of his other thoughts just got a little grayer.

Like his memories, everything else was only partial healed. His speech had returned, with no problems, but holding any lengthy conversations drained him of energy. He could now move his arms and legs, the bones in which that had been broken were now completely mended. He could sit up and move around, with only a fraction of the pain that it had caused when doing so before. He ached to get up and walk, to get out of this room. Or at least this bed! But everyone agreed that he was still too weak and needed more time to recover before he could try walking again. And that is why Harry had been forced to lie there and count the minutes as they ever-so-slowly passed by. Nine days, 17 hours, and 46 minutes. He kept track using the analog clock that hung on the wall opposite him.

Right now it was 9:53 in the morning. Lupin normally came in at about 9:30. Harry was vaguely wondering where he was, when he remembered that Lupin had said he would be bringing a few people with him today. And at 10:02 he walked through the door, accompanied by three others. At first, Harry was not able to recognize these three, but then realization rolled its eyes and smacked him across the face.

_How in the world could he have forgotten them!?_

"Ron, Hermione! Ginny!" He exclaimed as he sat up against his pillows.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed as well as she ran across the room and threw her arms around him. He winced, and grimaced slightly from the pain it caused, but hesitantly brought his arm up to her back to return the embrace.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," she said, pulling away as she felt him wince. "Its just...oh, its so great to see you awake Harry! I mean, last time I saw you, you were..."

She stopped talking after receiving a warning glare from Lupin, who had walked over and was now standing on the other side of Harry's bed, across from her. Harry didn't see the look that she was given.

"I was what, Gin?" He asked, confused by why she had so suddenly stopped.

"You were just a little worse for wears, mate." Ron said, giving him a slight nudge in the shoulder. Harry winced again, and Ron returned his hands to himself. "Oh, right. Sorry about that."

"No, its alright. I'm just glad you guys are here! Why haven't you been up before?" _Why haven't I thought of you before?_

"They kept saying that you weren't strong enough yet, and that you needed more rest before we could come to see you," It was Hermione that spoke this time. "Plus, Ron and I have just started our N.E.W.T.S. work, and the teachers have already assigned dozens of rolls of parchment...And McGonagall wouldn't let us go on a school day. But we were here everyday before term started. Oh, it really is great that your alright now, Harry!"

Hermione looked like she wanted to thrown her arms around him as well, but restrained herself after seeing Harry's reaction to when Ginny had. Last thing Harry needed right now was more pain. A warm and friendly smile would have to do.

"Really, Harry. How are you?" Ron asked seriously.

"I'm...I'm alright, Ron." He said honestly. "Most of the pain is gone; I'm taking potions for that. I'm just really tired all the time. And bored. I want to get out of this bed and do something." He gave a half-hearted smile.

"Harry, we've told you. Your legs haven't healed up properly yet to allow you to walk." Lupin said. He had been telling Harry this for the past three days now.

"How much longer do you think it will be, Lupin?" Hermione asked.

He looked back at Harry before answering. "Maybe only 2 more days," he replied to her, but really directed it at Harry.

"Two more! But, Lupin, I'm bored! I can't just lie around here all day..."

"I know, Harry, I'm sorry. But you really have been through quite a lot...We don't want to risk causing any more damage by having you exert more energy than is necessary."

"What about the scarring?" Ginny asked Harry, rather quietly. "Will it go away?"

"Well...my Healer, Pyrites, said that some of the larger ones will be permanent. But the rest should eventually subside...within a few weeks or so..."

"Wait, Pyrites?" Ginny repeated, an odd expression on her face. It might have been that of a suppressed fear, or it might have just been confusion. "Why have I heard that name before?"

"He's one of the new Order members. And he was one of my Healers as well," Lupin said. "After the incident with Pettigrew..."

"Oh, yes. That must be it..." Ginny said, nodding her head in recognition. But she still didn't look entirely convinced.

"Wait, what incident with Pettigrew?" Harry shot the question at Lupin in surprise.

"Goodness! I haven't told you?" He asked, sounding rather astounded. Harry shook his head 'no' and furrowed his eyebrows.

Lupin explained. "Harry, after you took that Portkey to Voldemort, Wormtail used Polyjuice potion and came to us pretending to be you! It didn't take long for us to figure out that he was an imposter, though, and when I confronted him he, well, attacked me..."

Lupin lowered the collar of his robes and tilted his head to reveal a faded red hand-mark imprinted upon the skin. "He tried to choke me with his silver hand. And werewolves aren't really known for reacting well with silver..."

"Needless to say, I had seen better days. The Order brought me here immediately, and they were able to help me out. Pyrites treated me when he was in. If I hadn't gotten medical attention as fast as I had, I probably would have died on your bedroom floor, Harry."

"That's what the hair was for!" Harry exclaimed, and everyone looked at him for an explanation. "As soon as I got there, Wormtail ripped out some of my hair and then left! That's what the rat did with it! Lupin, are you alright now?"

Remus nearly laughed at Harry's sudden outburst. "Yes, yes. I'm fine now. A few potions and some decent sleep and I was as good as new. Well, as new as I'll ever be, at least."

"What happened to Pettigrew?" Harry asked.

"Well, we were hoping that you would be able to tell us." Remus admitted. "He escaped before the rest of the Order even knew what had happened."

"Dammit. I wish someone had caught him and given him the life-sentence in Azkaban that he deserves..." Harry said rather ruefully.

"Do you really think that he deserves that, Harry?"

"What do you mean? Of course he does! He betrayed my parents! He turned against you all and sided with Voldemort!..." Harry blanked, his heart plummeting to a stop on the inside of his rib-cage and stopping his breath..._He had done the same... _

"What I meant was, do you think that he deserves even that? I mean, _he would still be alive_, even as horrible as an existence that it would be..." Lupin paused, but didn't notice Harry's discomfort. "Harry, that night, I had been trying to kill him when he attacked me. I had never hated anyone so much; for what he had done to your parents, for his hand in what had happened to you. For Merlin's sake, _he was laughing._"

The words of Sirius Black from years ago suddenly echoed around his mind. _'You should have died! Died, rather than betray your friends!' _They were the darkest, most fate-bindingmost dismaying words that Harry had ever heard before.And this time, it felt as if they were directed at him.

"He should have died," Harry said, his voice shaking slightly with anger. _As I should have... _"Anyone who turns their back on lifelong friends doesn't," he gulped. "Doesn't deserve to live."

Everyone sat rather quietly. It wasn't a very awkward silence, but it did hang in the room like a heavy weight. Harry felt that they needed something else to talk about, before he said something stupid and revealed anything.

"Well, your not the only one with 'attempted murder' under their belts, Remus..."

"What?" Remus asked, wondering what he could possibly mean by that.

"I, er..." He paused, trying to find the right way to put it, before he realized that there was no 'right way'. "I tried to kill Bellatrix Lestrange." He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"What!?" Everyone collectively exclaimed, and Harry couldn't help but give a small smile at the expressions of shock on their faces.

"Harry...how? Why?"

"It was only a little after I was taken. I hadn't even been brought to Voldemort yet." A thought occurred to him. "It was probably at about the same time that you were trying to kill Wormtail...Anyways, I figured that I was about to die within the next five minutes anyway, and I wanted to take as many Death Eaters with me as I could. So I thought 'What the hell?' and cast the Avada Kedavra..."

"What...what happened?" Remus asked, flabbergasted.

"Well, er, nothing, actually...It hit her directly in the chest, but she seemed unfazed by it. She had even provoked it..." He said thinking back. "It was really strange, like she knew it wouldn't effect her. Maybe I hadn't really meant it...?"

"Harry, you hate Bella for what she did to Sirius, we all know that. You certainly meant what you were doing..." Ginny said.

"Hatred of one does not always warrant their death," Lupin countered, then looked at Harry. "But I think that in this case, it would have been enough to power the Killing curse. Especially if you factor into that the desperation of the attack. You thought that you were going to die, and so you made it one of your last efforts, correct? No, I don't think that it has anything to do with how much power and will you put behind that spell, Harry. She knew that it wasn't going to kill her."

"But how? How could you have that type of assurance? No one can survive the Killing curse..."

"Except you," Ron pointed out with a grin and a slight roll of the eyes.

"Yeah, well...That was different." Harry said, trying to shift it aside. "Bella didn't have anyone sacrifice themselves for her, did she? So how could she have survived? Wait a minute!" He said, remembering exactly what had happened. "I asked her! I asked her why the spell didn't work and all that she said was '_the power of the Dark Lord_'..."

"You don't think that Voldemort could have done something, do you?" Ginny asked rather quickly. "To make his Death Eaters immortal or something, I mean."

"I sure as hell hope not. We'd never be able to defeat them."

A twisted thought whispered itself in the back of Harry's mind. _You'll never be able to defeat us anyway... _Harry shook his head and forced the thought back into the recesses of his mind. _What was he thinking!? Whose side was he really on? Whose side was he _supposed_ to be on? And, had he just used the term '_us_'?!_

"I think that perhaps I should inform the Order of this at our next meeting," Remus said, "to see if they might have heard of any similar situations."

"How, er, is the Order, Remus?" Harry asked.

"We've, well, been better..." he alluded. He then sighed. "To be honest Harry, we've never been worse. We spent most of our time trying to find a way to get you back, but that was just as much a dead end as everything else. Its always been Dumbledore that's had the plans or the information. Without him...we're lost...Not to mention the fact that we lost our Headquarters, that was quite a setback."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "How could you have..."

He froze. He knew exactly why they had lost Grimmauld Place.

"Remus...I'm sorry." Harry said, shaking his head. He couldn't believe himself! "I think I--I gave it to Bellatrix."

"What? Harry, how? _Why?_"

"She was using the Imperius. I tried to fight it, but I... She forced me to, I'm sorry."

Remus was silent for a moment, and Harry could tell that he was trying to fight back his disappointment in him. He apparently realized, though, that Harry really didn't have a choice in the matter and that it wasn't his fault, because there was no trace of disappointment in his voice when he spoke.

"That's actually, surprisingly enough, a relief, Harry. We thought that Voldemort had been able to break the charms on it and gain entrance, and feared he would be able to do it to Hogwarts as well. Knowing that the spells that we put in place are still in effect does provide a bit of comfort."

Harry was glad to hear that he didn't blame him. "Where's the Headquarters now?"

"The only other place that would have us," he said with a grim smile. "Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts!" Harry exclaimed. "But...how can you..?"

Remus chuckled. "Harry, what better place is there? Half the staff are already members, we can protect the students from an attack...Hogwarts is already the safest building in the world! We didn't need to modify many spells for it to accommodate us."

"It really has been great having the Order there at school with us," Hermione said. "We spend nearly all our free time with them."

"Which isn't much, mind you." Ron added. "Honestly, Lupin. What's the point of all this schoolwork during a time like this? Its completely mental."

"Ron, of course we need all our schoolwork!" Hermione sounded appalled at even the idea of dispelling classes and homework. "We need to know as much as we can when it comes time to fight!"

"Well at the rate this is going, we're not even going to have time to fight." Ron said, rolling his eyes, exasperated. "You'll be the only one out there in the middle of a duel with a spell book going 'Oh, will you please hold on just a minute? I need to learn what spell would be best to hex you with.'"

Everyone laughed, although Hermione looked rather offended.

"Harry! If the Order is at Hogwarts, does that mean that you will be too?" Ginny asked. "Could you attend classes and everything?"

Harry thought about it for a moment, but it was Remus who spoke first.

"I think you should continue your studies, Harry. You'll be right there, so I see no reason why you couldn't. You never know what you might learn that you'll end up needing."

Harry shook his head. "No, Lupin. I don't think that there is anything else they can teach me that would help. I could use that time for other things."

No one argued him. It was Harry's decision, after all. And he had larger, more important things to worry about then homework and exams. But at least he would be able to be with his friends. Although, considering it now, it would also make it a hell of a lot harder to hide the mark branded to his inner forearm, as well as everything that went along with it.

"Do you mean the Horcruxes, Harry? Well, finding them, I mean." Ginny asked, and Harry shot his head up towards her. "Don't worry, Lupin knows. The entire Order does."

"Sorry, mate. I knew you had told us not to tell anyonebut under the circumstances and all..." Ron said, careful not to let slip that those 'circumstances' had been Harry found dead. They didn't want Harry to know about that quite yet. But he was slightly nervous at Harry's reaction to breaking his word with him, as the three of them had thought it best to let the order in on Dumbledore's and Harry's secret. It was the only thing that could stop Voldemort, and they thought they had needed to know.

But Harry merely stared at them, confused. "Horcruxes?" He had never heard the term before, and as soon as he said it, both his scar and the mark on his arm burned intensely. He cried out in pain.

"Harry?" Remus asked, moving towards him. "Harry, what is it?"

"Scar..." Harry breathed through clenched teeth. It wasn't just that, but he knew better then to mention the Dark Mark burning as well.

Everyone looked at each other in fearful concern. "Just..lay down, Harry, it will pass." Remus said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. There really wasn't anything that they could do for him.

But Harry wrenched away from Lupin's touch and growled in pain. "No one is supposed to know," he said, almost angrily. "No one was supposed to find out!"

And although it was Harry's voice that was speaking the words, it wasn't really him that was saying them. It was Voldemort. But to the people surrounding his bed, it sounded only as though Harry was mad that they had broken their promise.

"Harry, I'm sorry! But...they had to know!"

"No one was to know!" Harry snarled, his head and arm still encased in burning pain.

At that moment, the door was swung open and Vel Pyrites rushed inside. Seeing that Harry was in pain, he turned to Remus.

"I'm sorry, Remus, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Vel said in a serious tone. "He's going to need some further treatments and rest for the day."

Remus looked back and forth between Harry and Pyrites. "Its his scar; he says its burning."

Vel nodded. "A few more pain potions, then." He looked to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. "The three of you as well: out."

They could all only nod, and looked back at Harry with concern as they were ushered from the room, Remus not far behind.

"Don't worry; he'll be just fine," Vel Pyrites said comfortingly, as he locked the door behind them all. He then walked quickly over to Harry, throwing his clipboard into an empty chair.

Harry grimaced in pain. Whatever had happened, the Dark Lord was not pleased. The pain from his scar began to subside, and he prayed that it would leave his arm as well. But there was no such luck. Pyrites began to undo the bandages that covered the Dark Mark. The skull and snake were a deep crimson red upon his flesh.

For a moment, it seemed that the pain would disappear, but an instant later Harry was proven horribly wrong. An unbearable burning sensation swept from his arm, and Harry watched in horror as the branded red symbol bolded to the deepest of black. The pain was tremendous, far worse then it had been just a few moments earlier, in both the blazing Dark Mark as well as returning to the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

"What the...bloody hell...is happening?" Harry cried out between his gasps of pain, clenching his eyes shut.

Pyrites looked at him, an odd gleam filling his copper eyes as his mouth twisted into a menacing smile.

"Its time."

**AN:**

Xx Evil Grin xX

Yeah, thats about all that I have to say to that. Sorry! But, I PROMISE that there will be another chapter out before the release of book 7. There's a few things that I want to throw in there so that you know I had them planned before I read the book. I really do want to finish this, but I know that after Deathly Hallows so much is going to be different its going to be pretty hard. But, I can always just continue it anyways, and it just won't go along with what happens in the book.

Unless of course JKR stole all of her ideas from me. In which case, it will be exactly like the book, and you can all have the pleasure of reading the first few chapters of it before its even released. Just kidding! I know that JKR would never make a Harry a Death Eater...or would she?

As always, a big thank you to all of my readers and reviewers. You all really are getting better at this 'submit a review' thing. Its really not that difficult. You click the button on the bottom of the screen, type a few sentences, and press enter. That's it; review sent. Go on and try it. Say something ridiculous, you know you want to. Do it...

Xx shakes head sadly at self xX

Best I leave you all now.

Happy 4th of July, btw. Go watch some fireworks! Lol

MtFbwy.

Xx Nods head and Disapparates xX


	10. Confrontation September 21

**AN:** No, it hasn't been over 4 years since I last updated…. *cough* Let's just forget the 7th book ever happened, shall we?

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Not me. Not now, not before, not ever.

**CH: X**

**Confrontations**

A hard, stone floor rushed up to meet him as Harry Potter's weakened form toppled over, disoriented by the sudden Apparition that had been forced upon him. Vel Pyrites released his grasp on Harry's searing arm, revealing the gleaming black image imprinted upon the flesh beneath. He knelt gracefully, still in his white hospital robes, while Harry struggled to regain his composure and sit himself up straight. As he lifted himself up off the floor, the memories of all the times he had done so before came rushing back.

Along with the flashes of horrific memories, the Mark on his inner arm had not ceased its torturous burning. Harry had one pale hand clamped firmly over it in a futile attempt to stop the agonizing pain. It truly felt as if his arm was on fire. And on top of that, he was blinded by the pain that radiated from the lightening-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

The dank air reeked with the stench of stale fear. Harry realized that his own blood, sweat, and urine had been major contributors to the lingering odor, as well as the faded stains that had seeped into the concrete. He wondered who the fresher looking blood stains belonged to_. Did I know them? What had they done to deserve it? Did they choose to die rather than take the Mark?_

A thousand and one muddled questions and vague memories were running through Harry's head, already clouded by the searing pain, but he was given little time to address them, let alone dwell upon them for he suddenly realized that he and Pyrites were no longer alone.

In the center of the room stood a figure that could easily have been mistaken for mere shadow, save for the stark whiteness of the face and the red eyes illuminated by the dim, flickering lights. A smile stretched across his gaunt face, his gaze fixed solely upon Harry.

"My Lord," Pyrites said from his kneeling position, bowing his head. Voldemort inclined his head slightly in his direction and gave a slight gesture allowing him to rise. Pyrites stood silently and took his place a few feet behind Harry, who remained sitting on his knees. The Dark Lord drifted over to stand before him.

"Hold out your arm," Voldemort commanded him, his snake-like voice barely rising above a whisper.

Harry shied away from the presence, but yet shakily extended the arm that bore the burning Mark. Voldemort bent down and wrapped his cold and spindly fingers about it, and with the long pointer finger of the other hand he pressed down against the searing snake-and-skull image. It was as if the cool touch of his finger upon Harry's arm had spread, extinguishing the fire that had been raging beneath his flesh. Instantly, the burning had subsided, and the jet black image faded to dull red once more.

Voldemort released his grip on Harry's arm and it dropped back down to his side. He cradled it gratefully, thankful that the pain was finally gone. The searing pain in his head even ebbed away as well, but remained dully throbbing. If it was going to be like that every time that he was summoned to the Dark Lord...

Harry glared up at the figure before him. This was the man that he had sworn his eternal allegiance to? The man who had tortured him and caused him to be in the state that he was in, the man whose Mark was engraved in his arm? This was _Voldemort_! The one that had killed his parents and had tried to kill him! This was the Dark wizard that Harry was destined to destroy, set by prophecy years ago. He had aligned himself with the forces of the same Dark Lord that he had sworn he would one day vanquish.

His head hurt, but it wasn't from the scar. _What had he done?_

"I see, Harry, that you have decided to answer my call," Voldemort began. "And you have done so without struggle. Excellent."

Harry continued to glare up at him, unable to do anything else. "What do you want with me?"

Anger flashed beyond his crimson eyes. "Look down at your arm, boy, and address me as you should." Voldemort hissed.

Instinctively, Harry glanced down at the ominous symbol that was etched upon his flesh. He now understood what it meant; he now understood exactly what decision he had made. He had betrayed his friends and sworn himself to Voldemort. Harry looked back up to him.

"And just how is it that I should address you, then? Voldemort? Tom? _Mr. Riddle_?"

You could almost see the flames shoot up behind Voldemort's eyes. "Do not call me that!" He hissed. "You will address me as 'Master' or 'Lord', as do the rest of my followers. My muggle name no longer exists to me."

"I am not one of your followers," Harry spat. "I may wear your Mark, but that does not make you my 'master'."

Voldemort laughed coldly. "I think you will find, Harry, that it does."

Vel stepped forward and attempted to speak. "My Lord, I…"

"Silence, Pyrites." Voldemort commanded. "The work that you have done for me is greatly appreciated and will not go without reward. However, we will speak of the matter later. For now, go. I will summon you when needed."

"Yes, M'lord. Of course." He said calmly, bowing before taking his leave from the stone chamber. Harry was, again, alone with the Dark Lord. Voldemort wasted no time before speaking.

"The last time you were here, Potter, you made a vow to me. An Unbreakable Vow. The proof of this lies upon your very flesh. Whatever ill-feelings you may have of this, forget them; cast them aside as you had over a week ago. You have been lied to, boy, and only through me can you learn the truth."

Harry sat in silence. He was not certain what to believe any more. Voldemort continued.

"But before anything is explained to you, there is something that you must first explain to me. I had not wanted to have this first meeting with you for several more days, at least. But something that was said in your last conversation compelled me to bring you to me now. I must know, Harry, everything you know of _Horcruxes_."

…._Shit. _

Harry could merely mouth wordlessly, completely unsure of what he should say. He, of course, remembered exactly what the Horcruxes were and just how crucial they were to the Order in defeating Voldemort. He also knew that they did not want Voldemort to find out that they knew about his soul-savers.

"I don't know what you're talking about," is what Harry tried to say, but what came out was a desperate rasping as his throat closed up on him and cut off air. There was a moment of pure terror as Harry clutched at his throat, unable to breathe, and then the choking sensation was gone as soon as it came. Voldemort grinned evilly.

"You cannot lie to me, Harry. You took an Unbreakable Vow swearing your allegiance to me. Your lies will kill you. Your deceitful words will betray you before they allow you to betray me. You can hide nothing, for even if you remain silent, I can do _this_…" He placed his hand atop Harry's head and closed his eyes, and Harry understood immediately that he was using his Legilimency skills. Attempting to block him would have been pointless.

As Voldemort gained the information that he sought, his clutch on Harry's head grew tighter and tighter until it reached the point that Harry thought his skull would surely be crushed. Just as Harry thought he could take no more, Voldemort released him violently and let out an inhuman snarl of rage. Both of Harry's marks seared as he was forced back, catching himself on his elbows before he fell flat on the floor. Never had he seen someone so angry before, and the unadulterated fury that emanated from the Dark Lord was purely terrifying. Voldemort was seething, chest rising and falling rapidly with each growling breath, the green flames on the candelabras pulsing wildly at the same rate. Though fearful for his life, Harry daren't move. And then the red eyes snapped back open and the flickering flames froze in place.

The heavy breathing had ceased and Voldemort stood absolutely motionless, a statue carved of ice and ire, eyes fixed upon Harry. There was no movement of any kind in the room. Even the thoughts in Harry's mind were still, overpowered by terror. Then, without any warning, Voldemort whipped out his wand.

"….Punishment is warranted for this, Harry. Retributions must be made." His voice was poorly composed, shaking with rage, and yet it still pierced like shards of ice.

Harry knew that death or some form of extreme bodily torment was about to be delivered to him, and he was unable to do anything about it besides tense up and wait. _I'm going to die a Death Eater, on my knees before Voldemort. No one will know what ever really happened._

When his demise did not come after a few seconds, he unclenched his eyes and saw instead that Voldemort's wand was no longer even focused on him. The Dark Lord was conjuring something, fabricating some liquid, metallic substance in mid air, silently mouthing the words to some incantation as he did. The substance spun rapidly as it began to take shape, and before Harry could even begin to let his curiosity take control, a flick of Voldemort's wand sent the mysterious mass flying across the room where it attached itself to Harry's face. Harry screamed and pried at the molten metal, finally managing to tear it away and send it skidding across the floor where it sat steaming. He groped at his face, expecting it to be horribly burned, but found only undamaged skin. Once he was able to calm down he was able to recognize what the object was… It was a Death Eater mask. And he immediately understood it to be his.

"Tonight, boy, you will truly understand what it means to stand in the way of Lord Voldemort. Tonight you shall see what happens to those that oppose me. No longer will you be fool enough to stand in my way. No one will be spared…..Pyrites!" A few seconds after his name was called, the Death Eater appeared in the room.

"What is it that you require, Master?" Pyrites asked reverently.

"There has been a change in plans. You will be needing your case tonight. For now, take Potter back to St. Mungo's and have him released. He will be answering the call."

An odd, devious glint flicked in Pyrites' copper eyes as he responded. "Understood, My Lord."

"And one last thing before you go… _Crucio_!"

Harry had been prepared for that moments before, but now it had taken him completely off his guard. He was thrown back against the floor as his body was enveloped by the agony that the spell delivered. He had somehow managed to forget how much this _hurt_. The aches and bruises that had been the result of his last meeting with Voldemort had been disabling enough… But this! … _This pain was fresh_. This pain was actively shredding his already tender nerves and causing him to convulse spasmodically and cry out against his will. This pain could not be dealt with or endured, and it was only after the curse was finally lifted that Harry was able to breathe and think clearly again.

"Get him out of here," Voldemort spat, before leaving the room.

Pyrites strode over and assisted Harry to his feet. "Word to the wise. Whatever you did to piss him off? Don't do it again."

"I'm fine, thanks," Harry said, twisting his arm out of Pyrites' helping hands. He was still shaken from the curse, but he didn't feel too comfortable with the fact that this Death Eater was trying to help him either. "Just get me back."

"Hold up," Pyrites said, picking up the silver mask off the floor and thrusting it into Harry's hands. "You'll need that for tonight. Unless you want everyone to know that it was you."

"What's going to happen tonight? What's going on?"

Pyrites merely smiled. "You'll find out soon enough," and with that he took hold of Harry's arm and Disapparated back to the room in St. Mungo's. "Now, stay here. I'm going to take care of your release forms and get you out of this place. Personally, I don't think you're quite ready, but I'm not one to dispute the Dark Lord. And Merlin, Potter, hide that, won't you?" He said, indicating the Mask Harry still held. He sighed in frustration and left the room.

Alone, Harry collapsed down onto the bed, dropping the mask carelessly as he jammed his palms into his eyes. Tears managed to leak out from under them regardless and he hastily tried to wipe them away. He picked the mask back up from where it had fallen beside him and he stared at it in revulsion. This was his.

It was silver, with a vaguely skull-like appearance. Black symbolic markings snaked their way across the surface and Harry allowed his finger to trace them. He had the feeling that they held some significance, and as he touched them he felt so close to comprehending their meaning. They were like ancient hieroglyphs to be deciphered and for some reason he was reminded of Parseltongue.

Harry did not want to think. He did not want to think about what had happened nor what was going to happen tonight. He wanted to go to sleep and awaken hours later to find that this entire situation was just one horrible, horrible nightmare… but no such grace existed for him. Within a moment, Pyrites had returned.

"Looks like you're free to go," he said dropping a medical chart onto the bed. With a wave of his wand all of Harry's limited possessions were packed neatly into a box that Pyrites had brought in with him, including the mask. Pyrites shifted the contents so that not even a hint of silver was discernable within. Harry glanced at the chart. The name read "Evans, James".

"Who's James Evans?" He asked out of curiosity.

Pyrites actually laughed. "You are. What, did you think we were going to advertise the fact that Harry Potter was here? Few people know that you're even alive."

"You mean everyone thinks I'm dead?"

There was no reply. Pyrites instead busied himself with finding something on a supply cart. Having found it, it went over to Harry and sat down. "Give me your arm."

Confused, Harry held out his arm to him. Pyrites rolled his eyes. "Your other arm, you git. You're not trying to hide anything on this one." He grabbed the arm that bore the Dark Mark and thrust up the sleeve. Harry understood as Pyrites began wrapping it with the roll of gauze he had taken off the cart. "If anyone asked, it's a gash that hasn't healed yet. You can figure out how to hide it yourself when that has run out of validity. Now put this on, we're leaving." He said, tossing Harry a cloak from the box.

Harry caught it and threw it on, a thousand questions running through his head. "Where are we going?"

"Hogwarts." And with that, they Disapparated again.

Since the Order of the Phoenix began using Hogwarts as its headquarters, the thestral-drawn carriages had been stationed in the village of Hogsmeade to assist with transportation to the castle. A line of them awaited by the gates to the grounds. Harry and Pyrites landed not far from them.

"Once you get inside go straight up to the 7th floor. The left wing is being used by the Order. They should already have a room made up for you." Pyrites instructed.

"Wait, aren't you coming?" Harry asked.

"I've got better things to do than babysit you," he said rather coldly, handing off the box of Harry's things. "I think you can handle it from here."

"But what about tonight? What's going to happen?"

"You'll figure it out," And before Harry could say anything in response, he was gone, leaving Harry feeling slightly lost and abandoned. He then reconsidered the situation. Vel Pyrites was a loyal subject of Voldemort. Harry didn't need him for anything.

He made his way over to the carriages and climbed inside the first one. Without having to do anything it started to make its way up to the castle. In years past, the trip to Hogwarts was filled with excitement and anticipation. The castle had been the only place that had felt like home to him and he had always looked forward to going back. But this time, he felt nervous. He wasn't sure what was going to await him. His biggest fear was that he would feel that he no longer belonged there, that due to his betrayal he would never find comfort in its halls again.

The carriage rides used to feel like they took an eternity, but this one was over far too soon. Before he was really ready for it, Harry was looking up at the big oak doors that served as the castle's entrance. With a sigh and a now-or-never attitude, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He was relieved to find that at first glance, nothing had changed. The entrance hall was the same as ever. Students milled about, talking and laughing. The inviting smell of food wafted out of the Great Hall. One of the many resident ghosts drifted by on a floor above. Despite everything in his life that had changed, Hogwarts had remained unscathed. He almost managed a full smile… before everyone seemed to realize all at once who had just walked in the front door.

The cheerful chattering that had seconds ago filled the hall was now replaced by shouts of exclamation and people rushed at him from all directions demanding attention to their inquiries.

"Harry! Harry Potter! What happened? Are you alright? How are you alive? Were you really with You-Know-Who this entire time? Harry! Is it really you? You're not dead! Did you kill any Death Eaters? You look terrible! Can I touch your scar-I heard its good luck! Harry, will you be doing the D.A. again this year? Did you really die and come back to life? Harry! Are you really the Chosen One? Harry! Harry! _Harry!_"

Harry was overwhelmed by the swarm surrounding him. So many people were shouting so many things; he didn't know what to say or who even to say it too. But there was one voice in particular that caught his attention.

"Get out of the way! Leave him alone. All of you, move!" The angry voice said, cutting through the sea of people at the same pace as a head of flaming red hair. Ginny Weasley managed to push her way through to him and grab his arm, trying to lead him up the stairs and away from the mob of questions. When they did not make way for her she whipped out her wand, shooting a spell into the air that exploded in a loud flash and a blinding bang. "You better back off, the bloody lot of you!"

"Come on, Harry," she said, dragging him away from the crowd that stood gaping at the bottom of the stairs. She navigated the twists and turns of the corridors and stair wells, not stopping until she ushered Harry into a room on what he assumed was the 7th floor. She closed the door behind her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She said accusingly. "You aren't supposed to be out of St. Mungo's for days, at least!"

"It's good to see you too, Gin," Harry said, taken aback by her brashness.

"Oh, Harry, it's not that I'm not glad that you're here! It's just… you clearly aren't well enough to be yet. Why would they let you out? You still look awful. Here, sit down," she said, leading him to the bed and sitting down beside him.

"I'm feeling much better, honestly. And Pyrites said I was alright to go. Besides, there wasn't much else they could do for me there anyway." He placed the box down on the floor, taking notice of the room for the first time. His personal trunk was already there, along with Hedwig's empty cage. There was a fireplace, a wardrobe, a desk and a fully stocked shelf of books. But all of this was difficult to make out because also crammed into the room were hundreds of flowers, candy boxes, letters, and cards. "Ginny… is this _my_ room?"

She nodded sheepishly. "People have been sending gifts from all over the wizarding world. You didn't get them while you were in the hospital because…"

"…no one was supposed to know I was there, right. Pyrites told me." He said, still trying to take in the sheer magnitude of well wishes that had been sent to him. All of these people, people he didn't even know, wanted him to be safe and well. His fame was something that would never fully grow accustomed to.

But how many of those same people would understand that he betrayed them in order to keep them safe?

"Are you sure you're feeling well enough to be here, Harry? You really don't look well," she said concernedly, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead.

He caught her hand and smiled, looking into her round, worried eyes. "I'm fine, Gin. Really. Just tired."

She gave a small smile. "I know what you mean. I've barely slept a night since you were taken. I've just been so bloody worried."

Now that she said it, Harry was able to take note of the darkened circles around her eyes. He was also able to trace the faded outline of a scar running down the side of her face. He then noticed another on her neck, and more on her arms. He was about to ask her where they came from, but even as the thought it he began to remember. Harry wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest tightly.

"I'm so, so sorry, Ginny," he choked out, burying his face in her ginger hair. "They tortured you because of me. I'm so sorry."

"Harry, it wasn't your fault. You did absolutely nothing wrong. Please don't blame yourself, I'm fine." She said, sounding a little surprised by his sudden display of emotion.

"I told you months ago that he would hurt you if you were with me."

She pulled away from him to look him in the eyes. "But I wasn't with you. You went to the Dursley's, I went home. But that didn't stop us from both having the same dreams. You tried to protect me by forcing me away but it doesn't change what's there, nor what Voldemort sees in you. And yeah, so he tortured me because of it. But if that's the price that I have to pay for loving you, so be it. "

But Harry was thinking deeper than that. Voldemort had used her as the final straw to break his resolve. What would Ginny think if she ever found out that he had betrayed the trust and love of the entire wizarding world… for her?

"Ginny… You could never forgive me for what I have done."

"What you've done? Harry, I don't think you even realize what you've done. Don't you remember the choices that Voldemort gave you when you were with him?"

_All too well,_ Harry thought to himself.

"He said you could either become a Death Eater… Or you could die." She reached down and jerked up his left sleeve. Harry tensed up instinctively. "I don't see a Dark Mark there, Harry, do you? Explain to me then how I'm talking to you right now."

_Because the Mark is on my right arm?_ He thought guiltily. But he didn't understand what she was trying to say. A very confused look spread across his face. He was afraid of where she was going with this.

"He killed you, Harry. You were murdered by Voldemort." Her words were sharp and pierced right through to his heart, stopping it. The multitude of voices from the entrance hall came rushing back to him, certain questions now making themselves heard much clearer than others. _How are you alive? Is it really you? You're not dead! Did you really die and come back to life?_

"Ginny…. Are you saying that everyone thinks I died?" Harry asked in disbelief. He remembered asking a similar question of Pyrites earlier and receiving no answer.

"Thinks? Harry, I carried your body! _You were dead._" Tears began to fill her eyes as she remembered the night. "Did you think Voldemort just got bored and let you go? How else do you think you got out of there?"

Harry did not have an answer for her. Ginny continued explaining, her voice soft and pained.

"It was three days after Percy brought me there. They put me in a cell and left me alone for the first time, but I wasn't there for long. I could hear cheering coming from down the hall. I think they only left me alone long enough to watch Voldemort kill you because after the cheering they came back and took me to him. He was standing there, and he looked _happy._ It was all so bizarre…. The Death Eaters were all laughing, Voldemort was smiling... and there you were, just lying in the middle of the floor. But it wasn't you. It was just your body. Your bloody, disfigured, lifeless body. You weren't moving, you weren't breathing… You were dead. I was so upset and so sure I was going to be next that I ran at Voldemort and started hitting him as hard as I could… But he just kept grinning. He made a Portkey out of one of the Death Eater's masks and told me to take you body back to the Order. He told me to tell them 'their savior had fallen'. And so I brought you back. And the entire Order saw your corpse. They started making funeral arrangements. They were going to bury your body in a tomb next to Dumbledore's."

Harry sat back and tried to absorb all of this. Had he actually died or had Voldemort just made it look that way to fool the Order?

"But… Ginny, if I died, how am I alive now?" Harry asked, trying to piece it all together.

She shook her head. "We don't know. We were hoping to somehow figure it out once you woke up, but since you don't even remember dying, that doesn't seem likely. Lupin said it might have had something to do with really powerful dark magic."

Either way, dark magic was involved, and that he was assured of.

"I'm just so glad you're ok, Harry. Everyone is. The only thing that matters is that you're alive." Ginny said, putting her arms around him.

Harry let her hold him for a moment before he quietly asked one of the most pressing things on his mind. "What if I had taken the Mark?"

Ginny looked up at him. "Merlin, Harry… That'd be difficult. I think everyone would be able to understand that it wasn't something you wanted to do…"

"I don't mean everyone. I mean you. You were there; you know what it was like. The decision that I had to make was just as painful as the spells I was put under. Would you be able to forgive me if I choose to side with Voldemort?"

"You really considered it, didn't you?" She asked, searching his eyes. "You considered joining him to save your life?"

When she put it that way it made his decision seem all the more vile and selfish. "Not to save mine—to save yours. To save everyone. I'm the only one that can defeat him."

"…and you still decided that death would be better?" Ginny questioned. She was making this difficult. He shouldn't have brought it up.

"I wasn't thinking anymore; nothing made sense. …I just wanted it to be over." Harry said, looking away.

"Harry, no one is blaming you for the decision you made. There was no 'right choice'. We're all just relieved that it worked out the way that it did. We somehow managed to get you back alive _and_ Dark Mark free."

_Actually, they didn't get either. I'm a Death Eater that had to be brought back to life._

Feeling that Harry wasn't too comfortable with the conversation, Ginny reached up and lightly kissed the side of his face. "Why don't you try to get some rest?" she said, moving to stand up.

"Wait," He said, lightly grabbing her arm and pulling her back down. It wasn't until she began to move away that Harry realized he did not want her to go. He didn't want to be alone right now. Having Ginny here would help keep his mind occupied and away from ruing over his decision. And it was nice to know that there was someone that still cared for him, even if she didn't know that she shouldn't. "Stay with me."

Ginny nodded and gave a small smile. "Okay," she agreed, taking off her shoes and pulling her legs up onto the bed. Harry laid back and Ginny followed, curling herself up next to him. He put his arms around her and held her to him as if she was the only thing good in his world.

Ginny giggled quietly. "Harry Potter a Death Eater- could you imagine?" Her last word was broken by a yawn as she shifted closer to him and closed her eyes. Harry sighed heavily and then closed his eyes as well.

What had to be hours later, Harry awoke with a start as the flesh of his right arm was engulfed in torment. Forgetting Ginny was there, he bolted upright, sending her tumbling off the bed.

"What the hell, Harry?" she said groggily before realizing that he was clearly in pain. "Harry? What is it? Is it your arm?"

He did not realize he had clutched onto his arm. He had to think fast. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I slept on it wrong and re-fractured it. I'm going to see if I can find Pyrites. Could you tell Remus and the Order so they don't panic? I don't even think they know I'm out of St. Mungo's yet."

Ginny nodded, looking concerned. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No!" Harry said, a little more forcefully than he meant. "No, I just... I don't know where he's at. I'm going to check down in Hogsmeade first, he said he goes there often." His story was weak but it was the best he could come up with.

"You can't just go off on your own, though, Harry!"

"Ginny, trust me, I'll be fine. Just let Lupin know for me?"

"Alright. Just be careful," she said, leaving the room whilst still looking concerned.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Harry went to work. The first thing he did was grab the mask that Voldemort had fashioned for him out of the box by the bed. He then went to his trunk and quickly found what he was looking for: a set of plain black robes and a thin, shimmering piece of fabric. He quickly threw the robes on… and then stopped. Why was he doing this? Why was he willingly answering Voldemort's call? A sudden surge of intensified pain seemed to serve as enough incentive to keep moving. Harry felt as if he did not really have much choice in the matter regardless. Plus, there was some twisted part of him that was purely curious as to what was going to happen.

He went to grab his wand and realized for the first time that he had not had it since the Serpent's Lair. He was going to go into this tonight defenseless? All reason shouted at him to reevaluate what he was doing, to resist this beckoning urge, but he felt compelled and obligated. This was just something that he knew he had to do. He grabbed the mask and slipped under the Invisibility Cloak.

It was later than he had realized for traffic in the halls was few and far between. He managed to avoid detection easily since navigating the castle under his father's old cloak had been a favorite past time since year one. But never had he used it for as dark a purpose as this.

The air outside was crisp and cool, the half-moon providing more than enough light. Harry hurried across the grounds as quick as he could, for the longer he took, the stronger the pain became. He was filled with fear and anticipation as to what awaited him, his heart pounding deafeningly. As soon as he was passed the gate, he somehow knew exactly what to do, like it was second nature. He took hold of the burning Mark and concentrated hard. Immediately, he was given an address and an image of a house inside his head. He had no time to question it, the pain was becoming crippling. He focused intently on his destination and Disapparated with a sharp crack.

**AN:** …well that wasn't too long of a wait now, was it? …Guys? ….Anyone still here?

For anyone still reading this, I thank you. After the release of the 7th book I kind of just put all of my Harry Potter stuff away and decided that I needed to move on with my life. ….And then a few weeks ago I was cleaning and I found this old thumbdrive…. And here we are. To be honest? It feels great to be back. Writing this has been like catching up with an old friend.

I'm sorry there wasn't really much to go on in this chapter after so long of a wait. I kind of just wanted to see if I still had it in me. This isn't where I originally wanted to end this chapter but it grew a little too long so I had to cut it short. I guess this just means I'll have to put chapter 11 up soon after ;)

So, as always, please review. Let me know if this is worth continuing. Thanks to all you readers out there.

**Xx Disapparates xX**


	11. Tribulation September 21 to 22

**AN:** Nothing better to do. Might as well make up for lost time and do some back to back updates. I literally posted Ch X 2 minutes ago. Let's see how long it takes me to finish this.

WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of a graphic nature. Don't get excited, you perverts, I don't mean_that_ kind of graphic—I don't write that smut :P I mean there is a scene in here that involves gratuitous amounts of violence and bloodshed. I thought it was time I let you see Pyrites' idea of a little _fun_.If you were in any way disturbed by this story's previous torture, then I would advise you to proceed with caution. Reading this might be like going to the dentist and getting teeth pulled…

Disclaimer: I own no rights to Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this from the same desk I started writing fanfiction at 7 years ago. I'd have enough money to be able to move out and get married and not be a broke college student still living with my parents.

**CH XI:**

**TRIBULATION**

As soon he arrived, the first thing Harry took notice of was that the burning sensation in the Dark Mark had vanished. With the pain gone, he was then able to give his full attention to the matters at hand.

The neighborhood was quaint and tidy. Perfect cookie-cutter homes lined the well-lit street, separated from each other by white picket fences. Each yard had a well manicured green lawn, sporting quintessential features such as flower gardens, trimmed hedges, and the occasional tire swing. The Dursley's would have approved of such a fine example of average Muggle suburbia. Everything seemed to be in its rightful place… except at the home Harry was standing in front of.

Here, the flower bed had been trampled into the dirt by the numerous black-robed figures storming their way inside. Windows had been shattered and the front door hung off its hinges from where it had been blasted through. The screams that emanated from within pierced through the otherwise tranquil air of the cool night.

Through the shards of the front bay window Harry could make out at least a dozen Death Eaters moving about inside. Jets of different colored lights preceded various destructive sounds. Crashes, shattering, explosions…. And still the ceaseless cries of those inside being mercilessly tortured.

_What__was__he__doing__here?_ Harry had absolutely no desire to be a part of this. Was this the retribution that Voldemort had referred to- forcing Harry to witness such heinous crimes? Well he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He answered the call, he went where he was told, but now it was time to get out of here. But though he wanted to escape he found that he couldn't force himself to move, not whilst he could still hear the pleas of those Voldemort choose to be his victims. Harry couldn't just run away and leave them here to die. And though he was defenseless and outnumbered, he knew that he had to do something to help. He threw off the Invisibility Cloak and jammed the Mask on, preparing to rush inside. But something had changed…

As soon as the Mask had touched his face, Harry felt overwhelmingly nauseous. He took a step forward and stumbled, unable to gain his balance. It felt as if his head had been stuffed with cotton and he could neither see nor think clearly. Coiling its way through his mind was a low, hissing voice. It grew louder; stronger; constricting his thoughts until Harry was cut off from them entirely. It was then that the hungry, serpentine language unhinged its jaws and consumed him.

Harry's eyes snapped open… but they were not his eyes. The eyes that now scanned the night were not the famous emerald green but rather a shade of darkest black. Iris, retina, pupil—everything completely blacked out. Beneath the Mask a devious grin grew wider, unbefitting of the boy's usual features. But he was no longer Harry Potter. He was a Death Eater.

All semblance of his self forgotten, he strode into the house, taking care to tread on a family portrait that lay in its shattered frame on the floor. Upon his entrance, all activity in the room seemed to cease and all eyes turned towards him. The two Death Eaters currently taking their turns with the victims slowly lowered their wands and merged back in with the surrounding crowd. Despite being hidden behind a mask, everyone knew who he was. And everyone wanted to know what he was going to do.

But Harry took no notice of them for his attention was drawn solely to the figures lying in the center of the floor of their living room. A man and his wife, no doubt. They clung to each other, whimpering and crying, as they watched his approach fearfully. Harry did not break his stride. The sea of black robes parted for him as he made his way through. With no hesitation he reached a hand out to either side of him and snatched up wands from two unsuspecting Death Eaters. They each made instinctive, noncommittal movements in response, but their shock and building curiosity kept them otherwise motionless. The air in the room was thick with anticipation.

Harry stopped to stand directly over the terrified subjects on the floor. He twirled each of the wands through his fingers casually as he looked down at them and smiled a twisted smile that no one could see.

"Please… Please don't hurt us anymore…" The man begged, literally on his knees. His wife clung tightly to his side. "We'll do whatever you want… We have money…"

His pleas were ignored as Harry opened his mouth and bellowed a curse. "CRUCIO!" He shouted, and the spell shot out of both wands simultaneously, the left driving into the chest of the man; the right into that of the woman. The room erupted in a cacophony of noise as the raucous cheers of the astounded Death Eaters managed to overpower even the Muggles' screams of anguish as they convulsed grotesquely on the floor. After perhaps half a minute, Harry strengthened the spell even further, but even then their shouts could barely be heard. Death Eaters clapped him on the back and punched the air in triumph as Harry Potter—"The Chosen One"- continued the Cruciatus curse on not one, but on _two_ Muggles. Their fits were growing weaker now as the spell took its toll on their bodies. A foamy saliva oozed from their out stretched mouths and only the whites of their eyes could be seen as they fell closer to insanity. The Death Eaters could not handle it anymore and many were overcome by triumphant laughter. A chorus of "We've got Potter!" went up around the room.

"I think it's my turn now," a cool voice said a few moments later, and though it was low it was still clearly heard amidst the commotion. A figure stepped out of the crowd and into the center of attention, a tattered brief case clutched within a white gloved hand. Harry acknowledged that his time was up and ended the spells with a snap of each wrist. The screams subsided into moans as the two Muggles collapsed. Harry unceremoniously dropped the wands that he had used and the Death Eaters they belonged to scurried to gather them up off the floor. "He used my wand!" One of them exclaimed, thrusting it into the air. Another round of cheers went up again. Harry joined the mass and stood silently, oblivious to the congratulatory remarks he was receiving.

Broken glass and specks of blood covered what was probably once a pristine white carpet. Husband and wife attempted to crawl towards each other, but Vel Pyrites made a "tsk-tsk" sound. "Oh, I don't think so," he said, flicking his wand. Thin cords shot out and bound themselves around the victims, keeping them from moving any closer together. He crouched down to appraise them. He picked up the woman by her thick brown hair to better view her tear-streaked face, causing her to wince and shy away.

"Please…." She managed to choke out through her sobs.

"Don't you touch her!" The husband shouted. Vel shrugged and obligingly let go, causing the woman's face to drop hard onto the glass-covered ground with a sickening crunch. She groaned. The Death Eaters laughed.

"Why are you doing this to us?" The man cried out hysterically. "For Christ's sake, we're just dentists!"

Pyrites turned to him, feigning interest. "Dentists? You don't say. I always fancied I'd make a good dentist. You cause people pain; I cause people pain—we've got quite a bit in common." Pyrites said wryly. "I could use more hands on practice, though, you know? My procedures are a mite bit rusty. As are my instruments…"

Without even glancing down at his case, Pyrites managed to procure a rusty set of pliers. He dangled them before the man's face, whose eyes grew wide in fear.

"Say 'aah'," Pyrites growled, gripping the man's tear and sweat drenched face and forcing his mouth open. The terrified victim jerked and pleaded, eyes never losing sight of the pliers. But just as the tool was about to reach inside his mouth, Pyrites paused and released him. The man panted in relief and Pyrites sat back on his haunches. "No…. I want to make sure that I'm doing this right. Don't want to be too hasty, now, do I? I'm going to need you to tell me what I'm doing wrong. Tell me; is _this_ proper procedure?"

As he asked he lunged at the whimpering woman on the floor and in one swift movement had shoved the rusty metal instrument in her mouth. With no hesitation he clamped down on several teeth and wrenched back as hard as he could, sending fragmented shards of enamel flying across the room in a spray of blood. The howl of pain the woman unleashed was cut short as she began to choke on the blood pooling in her mouth. The gurgling and bubbling could clearly be heard as she continued her attempts to scream. She thrashed back and forth, coughing, gagging, and spitting blood. Pyrites ever so calmly wiped some of the splatter from his face.

"You… bloody…. bastard!" Her husband stammered out, shaking both with rage and uncontrollable sobs. "Jean, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…."

"I'm so sorry too, Jean…" Pyrites said, almost sounding sincere. "I don't think I did that quite right… Would you mind if I tried one more time?"

She let out a gargled squeal of protest that Pyrites completely disregarded. He held her head down against the floor and brought the pliers back to her mouth. There was an audible squelching noise as another tooth was ripped from her jaw. "Was that better or worse?" he asked, holding up the tooth to better admire the bloody bits of flesh that still clung to the roots. She groaned deliriously, her pale face a mess of tears and smeared crimson. On the other side of Pyrites her husband thrashed madly in protest, continuing to curse him. Pyrites sighed in exasperation. "There's no need to throw a fit; it will be your turn soon enough. Patience. Just a few more and I think I'll have it down pat."

Even some of the Death Eaters had to look away in revulsion as he continued the process of violently removing the woman's teeth. He flung them carelessly over his shoulder. A few of the crowd escaped outside to relieve the contents of their stomachs onto the home's finely maintained horticulture. A few seconds later they were back inside.

"It's the Muggle police!" They reported, and as if on cue, flashing lights could be seen moving down the street.

Pyrites looked up from his work, wrenching out with a strong jerk one final molar from the disfigured mess of a jaw that remained. Blood oozed down his hands and you could no longer tell that they were white gloves that he wore. "Well? Kill them," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and several Death Eaters cackled and ran outside, some jumping through the shattered bay window. Spells flew in all directions. There were shouts, screeching tires, and then a terrible crash. One set of flashing lights went out.

"The Order won't be far behind," A nameless masked Death Eater said with concern.

"Then let's give them a scene worth finding!" Another responded. "Torch the place—leave the Muggles to burn!"

Pyrites bent down and got into the face of the inconsolable husband of the woman he had just sadistically tortured. "Sorry, mate. Looks like we ran out of time. But no worries, I have a consolation prize for you," and with that he stood up and stomped on the man's face with the thick heel of his boot. There was a nauseating crunch as his nose was smashed in and a thick mess of crimson spurted everywhere. Either unconsciousness or death claimed him instantly.

Picking up his case, Pyrites then went over to Harry and slapped a wand into his hand. "I was going to give you this earlier, but you seemed to get by just fine without it." And with a crack, he was gone. Meanwhile, the scene had erupted into a frenzy of movement as the rest of the Death Eaters prepared for their own departure. The motionless bodies of the Muggles were subjected to spit and final kicks as spells were sent out to engulf the home in flames. Amidst the mayhem, a stray elbow caught the side of Harry's face, knocking his mask askew.

It was as if a wave of cold water had washed over him and risen him from a terrible nightmare. The black faded from his eyes and the emerald green beneath reemerged. Harry wrenched the mask away and sucked in air greedily, feeling like it had been an eternity since he had last been able to breathe. But instead of cool air filling his lungs, he was met with an acrid smoke that forced him into a coughing fit. His head spun deliriously and he staggered over to lean against the door frame, trying to clear both his mind and his lungs.

Death Eaters swarmed about, cackling, shouting, shooting off spells. On the lawn they sent green jets of light towards more of the approaching cop cars. Many of them decided to take their leave and sharp cracks could be heard as they Disapparated. The ones still remaining inside the house looked like nothing more than shadows silhouetted against the growing flames. The black smoke rose up into the night sky to meet the blazing image of the Dark Mark that hovered ominously over the home. It was seeing that glowing green symbol that reminded Harry that there were still innocent people within the burning room behind him.

He stumbled back inside in a daze, head still muddled. The smoke burned his eyes and throat but he did not allow that to stop him. Broken glass crunched beneath his feet and three smiling faces looked up at him from the family portrait that Harry vaguely remembered crushing upon his initial entrance. Even through the haze, one face stood out from the picture all too clearly. Harry dropped to his knees, frantically brushing away shards of glass, praying that it was just an uncanny likeness. But there was no possible way of denying it, even though the picture had to have been taken years ago. The girl with the bushy brown hair and slightly enlarged front teeth that was seated happily between her parents could be no one else besides his best friend. Harry felt as if all time and life had ceased as the full realization of the night's events smacked him hard in the chest.

He had participated in the torture and execution of Hermione Granger's parents.

Everything had gone numb. Harry crawled on his hands and knees over broken glass and spilt blood to get to the two bodies lying motionless on the floor. He reached Hermione's mother first and tried desperately to shake her awake. "E-Ennervate," he stammered, shaking his newly retrieved wand at her erratically. Her head lolled to the side and lifeless eyes stared up at him, still wide and filled with fear. Her mouth had been transformed into a nearly unrecognizable bloody pulp filled with scattered remnants of teeth, jaw broken and hanging unnaturally. Harry scampered away from the sight, unable to bear it, as silent tears rolled unhindered down his face. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. He couldn't bring himself to believe that this had actually happened.

A moan to his left drew him back to the present. Harry's head snapped up to see Mr. Granger's form shifting slightly in its binds. He clambered over to him, the bloodied carpet beneath him squelching with his every move. Harry frantically clawed at the magical cords that bound his friend's father but his efforts were in vain. Mr. Granger groaned with the pain of his obliterated nose and tortured body. Though not conscious, he was definitely alive. But Harry wasn't sure for how much longer. He had to get him help…

"Freeze! Don't you bloody move," A command came from the doorway. Several Muggle police officers stood there, guns drawn and pointed directly at him. They took in the scene—two disfigured bodies lying motionless in a burning room, a young man leaning over one of them covered in blood. Harry attempted to raise his hands to show he meant no harm, but apparently the sudden movement was too much for the traumatized officers to handle and one of triggers got squeezed. A searing, red hot pain shot through Harry's right shoulder as the bullet tore its way through his flesh. He clamped a hand to it, great quantities of warm blood pumping out over his fingers. He slumped over, but before he could hit the ground, someone forcefully grasped a fistful of his hair and wrenched him back. Within a split second Harry felt the familiar tube squeezing sensation of Disapparation just as a bullet whizzed past his head.

The grasp on his sweat-matted hair was released as they arrived and Harry collapsed on the floor. He clutched his freely bleeding shoulder as he spun around in search of who had taken him and to where. What he instead found was a wand aimed at his face.

"Sleep," came the command, and a light blue and gold mist was emitted from the end of the wand. Before he could even formulate a question in his mind, Harry slumped over in a deep slumber.

When he next awoke it was to find himself laid out on a worn couch in a dimly lit, unfamiliar room. He raised himself up and winced at the pain in his shoulder. It no longer burned as intensely as it had before but had instead been reduced to a stinging ache. Harry touched it gingerly and found that it had been bandaged. He looked around in an effort to figure out where he was and was startled to find that someone was sitting in a chair directly across the room from him. He was even more startled when he realized who the greasy-haired, hook-nosed man was.

"You!" He shouted, jumping to his feet in fury of rage at finding himself face to face with Severus Snape. He attempted to lunge himself over the coffee table at the murderer, but Snape merely flicked his wand and Harry found himself thrown back onto the couch. Snape came and hovered over him, his wand never moving more than an inch from Harry's face.

"Not a word from you, Potter," He snarled through gritted teeth. "I have just saved your life, but I assure you that the guilt that you will feel over the next few days will make you regret it. You will bear the burden alone and you will do so silently. You keep your head down, your mouth shut, and you do what you are told. Understand?"

Snape was livid. His face was paler than usual and his words were ice cold. Harry was so taken aback that he could not respond. Was Snape threatening him or trying to help him? His confusion even managed to overtake the hatred that he had for the man. In the next moment, he had wrenched Harry off the couch and thrust his Death Eater mask and wand into his chest from where they had sat atop the little table. "Get out of here. You have a grieving friend to console." Snape ordered and then swiftly left the room, leaving Harry standing there more lost than ever. With nothing else to do, he Disapparated back to Hogsmeade.

He arrived with a pop and immediately whipped off the black robes. He pulled the Invisibility cloak out of the pocket he had crammed it in, relieved it was still there. He threw it on and began the walk up to Hogwarts, wrapping the black robes tightly around the silver mask as he did. He tried not to think, to allow his mind to go blank, but flashes of memories from the night would not allow themselves to be forgotten.

From the time he put on the mask up to the moment it was knocked off, everything was a blur. Remembering it was as if he was watching himself from outside a fogged-up window. Words were muffled, colors were muted, and everything around the edges of his perception had been darkened out. He could see himself walking through the crowd of Death Eaters towards Hermione's parents and he could see the fear that they had in their eyes as they looked up at him and begged for salvation. But he delivered only further suffering. _What__had__he__done?_

By no means would he have ever intentionally harmed someone in the way that he had tonight, and especially not if they were the parents of one of his best friends. If Harry had had any semblance of control he would have done all that was in his power to stop the attacks, whether they be on the Grangers or someone he had never met. Regardless of whatever oath he had sworn or what tattoo he was forced to bear he would have never done something like _this_. Voldemort had enchanted his mask to force him to carry out his will. As long as that mask was on, Harry had absolutely no control over his actions. Despite knowing this, he took full responsibility for what had transpired this night. And Snape had been right: the guilt was crippling.

He allowed his feet to carry him without thinking about where he was going and before long Harry found himself standing at the doorway to the bedroom Ginny had shown him earlier. Had it really only been a few hours ago that he had lain peacefully in bed with her? It felt like a century. Harry staggered into the room, gratefully numb to the physical and emotional pain he was ridden with. He slid off the Invisibility Cloak and dropped it to the floor carelessly along with the bundle of robes that he held. He stared blankly into a mirror, just barely able to discern that the image that stared back at him was himself. His black hair was more of a mess than usual as it was matted down in places with sweat and ashes. Dark grey soot covered his pale face save for where the streaks of tears had carved their way through. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt, the neck of which had been sliced to allow access to the wound beneath. Harry took off the bloodied garment to closer examine the bandaging. A thick square of gauze had been taped down and he peeled it back to reveal a gleaming red circular mark. He touched it gently to find the entire area was warm and tense. He experimentally tried lifting his arm but could bring his elbow no higher than his shoulder. Harry sighed. It was just one more scar to add to the myriad that already covered his body. Faded pink gashes marred his chest, a few of the larger ones still containing stitches since they refused to heal magically.

Harry turned away from the mirror in disgust and staggered towards the little bathroom connected to his room. He turned the water on in the shower to hotter than he would usually enjoy and got undressed. His forearm was still wrapped up in gauze from where Pyrites had helped him hide the Dark Mark beneath. Harry unwound the bandaging to keep it from getting wet so he could continue to hide it later. He stepped into the shower and allowed the scalding water to wash away the vestiges of the night's events, his tears indistinguishable from the water running over his face. His various injuries stung fiercely, but he stood motionless beneath the steaming stream. The water pooling about his feet turned dark brown with the blood of the Grangers and the ashes of their home.

That morning he had woken up in his hospital bed in St. Mungo's. He had been reunited with his closest friends after nearly two months. He felt the burn of the Dark Mark for the first time. He was forced to face Voldemort as his _servant_. He was tortured by the Cruciatus. He returned to Hogwarts. He was told that he had actually been killed and somehow resurrected. He felt the burn of the Dark Mark _again_ and answered its call. He lost complete control of his free will and tortured his best friend's parents as he was cheered on by Death Eaters. He witnessed and contributed to the Grangers' deaths. He was shot. He was rescued by the man that killed Dumbledore. …It had been one hell of a day, and Harry knew it was still far from over. He prayed that his overwhelming plethora of emotions could be washed down the drain as easily as the rest of the filth from the night, but the blood that was on his hands would be with him for the rest of his life.

Barely able to keep his eyes open any longer, Harry turned off the water and began toweling off half-heartedly. He picked up the gauze and rewrapped his arm to conceal the tell-tale brand of a Death Eater, unable to bring himself to even look at the repulsive image that he wanted nothing to do with. As he staggered back into the bedroom he grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms from his trunk, struggling to pull them onto his pained, exhausted body. He reached the bed just as he managed to pull his last arm through and passed out before he even landed face-down on the mattress.

Mere seconds later, there was a loud banging on his door.

"Harry? Harry, are you in there?" Came a frantic and distressed sounding Ginny Weasley. Harry's bloodshot eyes shot back open. He seriously considered the option of remaining silent in the hopes that she would think him still gone and go away… but she didn't leave him that choice. She tried the doorknob and, finding it open, let herself inside. Harry silent cursed not having the foresight to have locked the door. He groaned audibly as he strained to sit himself back up. Ginny rushed over and threw her arms around him.

"Oh, Harry, thank goodness you're here!" She breathed. He could tell that she had been crying.

Harry rubbed his eyes. "What is it, Ginny?" He asked, although he already knew too well what the answer would be. He wasn't ready to deal with this yet, but he also knew that this was part of the price that he had to pay.

"Harry, it's terrible! There's been another attack! It... It was Hermione's family!"

"What? What happened? Are they alright?" Harry tried to make himself sound as surprised and concerned as he possibly could. He hoped that if he was in any way lacking Ginny would contribute it to how exhausted he looked.

"It was the Death Eaters. Mad-Eye said they broke into their home and tortured them. The house was burnt down and everything. Hermione's dad is at the hospital; they think he might be ok. But her mum… Oh, Harry!" Ginny threw her arms around him again and sobbed and Harry did his best to comfort her. He found that he had at least been shocked by one thing that she said.

"So Mr. Granger… He's alright, then?" Harry asked, this time not feigning his concern. Ginny pulled back and wiped the fresh tears off her cheeks, nodding.

"Everyone's going to St. Mungo's to see him now. Hermione's already there, so is Ron. I just wanted to find you first," she said, standing up and taking hold of his hand. "Come on, Tonks said she would wait for us."

Harry wanted to protest; to pull his hand out from hers and just deal with it all later after he got some sleep, but he knew he couldn't do that. Right now he had to be there for his friends. It was the least he could do. After all, this was his fault.

He allowed her to lead him off the bed. He grabbed a jacket and his wand from where it had dropped it on the floor. The pile of robes swaddling his mask was still there as well, and he kicked them out of view.

He was extremely thankful that Ginny was too distraught to want to talk. She had her fingers laced through his and her head rested on his shoulder. Aside from the occasional sniffle, they walked in silence. When they made it down to the entrance hall it was to Tonks standing quietly by the door, her hair an unusually dull shade of brown.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said sadly. "Good to see you up and about. At least it would be under different circumstances.

Harry nodded. "Where's Lupin?" he asked as the three of them walked outside. A carriage was already waiting by the door.

Tonks looked up into the night sky where a full moon hung over the castle. "He's… around," she eluded, climbing into the carriage.

A Portkey had already been set up for them in Hogsmeade. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Bill Weasley, and his recently wedded wife Fleur Delacour-Weasley greeted them. Kingsley checked his watch. "You've made it with nearly 3 minutes to spare," He said to Tonks. "And I'm glad to see you're doing better, Harry. You probably didn't expect you'd be returning to St. Mungo's so soon."

Harry made a noncommittal grunt in response. Bill came up and looked him in the eye.

"You've got some nerve, Harry," he said sternly, and Harry was genuinely taken aback.

"Erm, Bill, I…" he stammered, truly lost and frankly rather terrified._How__could__Bill__possibly__know?_

"Missing our big day like that. Honestly, what were you thinking getting yourself kidnapped then? You couldn't have waited 3 more weeks?" he laughed and Harry realized that he had been joking. Bill clapped him on the shoulder. His _right_ shoulder. Harry failed at attempting to pass off his grimace of pain as a chuckle, but no one else seemed to notice. He tried to calm himself down.

"Enough chatter," Kingsley said. "Everyone take hold of this hat."

They all crowded together, each clutching a segment of the old cap. Fleur made a bit of a face, clearly disgusted by the hat's decrepit condition, and Ginny rolled her eyes. Kingsley counted down the seconds on his pocket-watch. "3… 2…1…"

And then they were gone, whirling together through a void in space and time to arrive a moment later in the atrium of St. Mungo's hospital. Kingsley seemed to know just where to go and led them up to the fourth floor. Standing in the hall was a collection of Order members, including among them Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Fred, George, Mad-Eye, and McGonagall. Ginny ran over to her mother and a very pale looking Ron lumbered over to take her place by Harry's side.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked him.

"She's inside with her dad," Ron said. "We're giving them some time alone."

Harry nodded. "So he's awake then? Is he going to be alright?"

Ron merely shrugged.

"And Hermione? How is she?"

"Her mum's dead and her dad's not far behind. How the bloody hell would you be?" Ron snapped, and then immediately realized what he had just said. "Harry… I'm so sorry… I just…"

Harry waved it off. "It's fine, Ron. I understand."

Ron cast his eyes down towards his feet. "I don't like hospitals," he murmured.

Harry snorted. "Tell me about." He muttered, leaning against the wall and allowing himself to slide down to rest on the floor. Before he could get too comfortable, a man in a white doctor's robes appeared at the end of the corridor moving towards them. Harry was instantly on his feet again to confront Vel Pyrites.

"Long time no see, Harry," Pyrites greeted with a smile and a wink. Harry glared back fiercely. Pyrites narrowed his eyes then turned to the matter at hand.

"Sorry it took so long to get here. I came as soon as I heard. Terrible, terrible," he said to the Order, receiving teary nods in response.

"There was another Healer here earlier, but we thought you would be the best one for the job. Thank you for coming," Minerva McGonagall said.

"_Non__sibi__sed__toti_: Not for one's self but for all. I'm here only to serve." Pyrites said with a slight bow. "May I?" he asked, indicating the door.

"Yes, please do. Hermione is in there with him now…"

"No!" Harry exclaimed and everyone turned towards him with confused expressions. Harry thought quickly. He wanted to keep Pyrites away from Hermione's father for as long as he possibly could so as not to give him the chance to finish what he started. But also, he had to make sure that Mr. Granger was not sentient enough to recall the details from the night. He had seen him, without his Mask… the Death Eaters had chanted his name… Harry had to ensure that he was never able to tell anyone this. "I just… I'd like a moment with Mr. Granger first, while he's still awake. I want to know if he remembers what happened."

There was a slight glint in Pyrites' copper eyes that Harry was sure only he was aware of as a secret knowledge was passed between himself and the doctor-disguised-Death Eater. It was a glint that he took to be the twisted man's approval of Harry's cleverness. And though there were a few minor forced objections, no one stopped him as Harry purposefully pushed past Pyrites and into the room that up until that morning had been his own. He closed the door behind him, and pulled out his wand, prepared to do whatever it would take to wipe Mr. Granger's memories.

At his entrance, Hermione jumped and turned around, and Harry realized that she, too, had out her wand. However, she looked as if she had been trying to put hers away when Harry had startled her.

"Why is your wand out?" They asked of each other warily at the same time. They both looked flustered for a moment, before Hermione broke down into sobs.

"Oh, Harry, I just couldn't bear it!" She cried between her tears. "I did something awful!"

Harry moved across the room and knelt down before her. "What did you do, Hermione?" He asked cautiously.

"He was in shock! He couldn't forget what had been done to him; what had been done to my mother. I knew in his mind it was all he could see and think about. He was still being tortured. He didn't once even look at me…" Her teary brown eyes moved to stare at her motionless father. Harry glanced at him, but when he did he saw flashes of him writhing on the floor under Harry's own spell. Harry shook the vision from his mind and looked back at Hermione. He put his hand on the side of her face and turned her head to face him.

"Hermione. What did you do?" He repeated, a little more sternly.

"I didn't want him to have to live like that…" she said quietly. "I know I shouldn't have but…"

"But what?" Harry asked, genuinely afraid that Hermione had taken her own father's life in an effort to relieve his pain. Harry could not bear that much spilt blood on his hands.

"I erased his memories, Harry. It was the only thing I could think to do that would help."

A wave of relief rushed over him. Mr. Granger was fine. Or alive at least, with the chance to recover and become fine. Even better, Hermione had taken care of the memories for him. Harry's sickening secret would be kept safe and his guilt would be born in silence.

Harry hugged her tightly and she cried freely into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered, and he meant it more than she would ever know. He was the reason that her life and the lives of her family had been destroyed. Her tears soaked through his shirt and stung the freshly healing wound beneath, the pressure she was placing on his right shoulder near unbearable. But bear it he did, because he deserved to hurt. Harry found some bizarre sense of justice in Hermione's sorrow bringing pain to the injury he got whilst ruining her life.

After a moment, the door opened again and Pyrites let himself in. "I'm so sorry to have to do this, but I'm going to need some time alone to start on treatments," he said to them. Hermione stood up shakily and nodded, wiping the tears from her gaunt face. She relied on Harry to help guide her from the room. He did not even glance at Pyrites as he walked her past but as soon as Hermione was in the hall and safe within the arms of Ron, Harry went back into the room and slammed the door behind him. With strength that he didn't know he had, Harry grabbed a fistful of Pyrites robes and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there with a wand pressed forcefully into his face.

"Don't you fucking hurt him," Harry snarled through clenched teeth.

Pyrites seemed to be enjoying this. "What are you going to do, Harry? Kill me? Torture me like you did those Muggles tonight?" He taunted.

"Yes," Harry growled and a flash of black crossed his eyes. "_Crucio_."

The spell came much easier than he had expected it to. He kept it on Pyrites only a second or two, just long enough to show him that he was not afraid to use it. Pyrites barely had time to cry out before the spell was lifted, but he was clearly visibly shaken. But that smirk would not stay gone for long.

"My, my. Won't our Master be pleased to hear that Potter does have a bit of a dark side in him after all."

"Do not hurt that man any more than you already have tonight," Harry said, shoving Pyrites away and pointing towards the unconscious Mr. Granger.

"You have my word, Harry. His purpose has already been served. I've had my fun with him," he gloated, smoothing out the front of his robes. Harry sneered at him in disgust and left the room.

Luckily, everyone was too busy comforting Hermione to be suspicious of anything that had just went on and Harry slipped back in amongst them. Ginny was quick to be at his side.

"We're all going to stay the night here to be with Hermione and her father, but you look like you could use a decent night of rest. Tonks is going back to tell Lupin what happened; it's nearly morning now. You should go back with her and try to get some sleep in a real bed, Harry. Merlin knows you deserve it."

Harry found that he could only nod in agreement. He had used the last vestiges of his energy in dealing with Pyrites. Going back to sleep in a bed sounded like the most fantastic thing he had ever heard. After that, everything was a blur in his emotionally ravaged and delusional mind. He vaguely recalled saying good bye and leaving with Tonks, then making their way back up to the castle in the carriage, then the walk through the halls, and then before he knew it he was standing at his door. Tonks gave him a hug and then left to find Lupin.

As soon as she was gone, Harry shut the door, remembering this time to lock it. The first few rays of sunlight were already beginning to creep up outside his window. Stumbling over, he drew the heavy curtains shut and then dropped down on the bed, not even bothering to remove his shoes. In only a matter of seconds, Harry was finally asleep.

**AN:** So…. That's that chapter…. Hate it, love it- either way, let me know. I'd love to break the 100 reviews mark. I apologize to those disturbed by the gore and stuff. I also apologize to anyone that thought there would be more and was disappointed :P

So not too bad on time between updates, huh? Might be a record for me. Though, this might be the last chapter for a little while. You know, school and stuff. Gotta write a damn 40-page thesis paper so I can graduate. This is a lot more fun, but…you know… priorities :/ I'll be back during winter break.

xX Disapparates Xx


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